A Long Way to Go
by Sweet Jelly Hearts
Summary: This is a big series of little stories about Gilbert and Matthew. Sometimes the stories are sad, and sometimes they are happy. Sometimes the stories are connected to each other, but a lot of the time they stand alone. There's one thing that's certain about this series, though: there's still a long way to go before it's finished. 100 Theme Challenge, PruCan. COMPLETE
1. Introduction

_A/N from sixty chapters in the future: Hello! Thank you for coming across this story of mine and choosing to read! Before you continue, I would like to let you know that since this first chapter, I have grown a lot as a writer, which is good because that was the whole point of this challenge. I have chosen not to edit any of the early chapters so I can compare how I used to write with how I write now. With that said, please excuse the way I used to write and persevere through the chapters until I get better. Maybe you'll notice the difference between my writing in future chapters :)_

_And now, without further ado, please enjoy A Long Way to Go!_

* * *

Gilbert Beilschmidt stepped off of the bus and took a big whiff of the smells around him, letting the scented air out of his lungs with a sigh.

Sunscreen, diesel, cheap perfume, and new clothes.

It smelled like the first day of school. And Gilbert _loved _it.

Contrary to popular belief, Gilbert did not hate school. In fact, he was actually quite fond of some certain aspects of it, the first day to name only one of them. The first day meant moving up a grade and making progress! And who doesn't love progress? Progress meant dorky little eighth-graders coming out of middle school to become the bright young men and women of the future! And freshmen meant… well, for lack of a better phrase:

Fresh meat.

Gilbert grinned at that thought in a way that made some of the people looking his way (wisely) turn around and walk in the opposite direction. Call it cruel, call it twisted, but there were few things Gilbert loved more than watching a kid struggle in an uncomfortable situation. His little brother, Ludwig, told Gilbert that he needed to get counseling. Gilbert told Ludwig that _he_ needed to get a life.

Backpack slung over his shoulder, Gilbert walked through the large, open campus of his high school, scanning the yard for his first target of the year. They'd have to be a cute, lost-looking kid, definitely a freshman. Why not spot some easy prey for the first day?

Gilbert kept looking until—ahah! Perfect!—his eyes rested on a tall girl with wavy blonde hair. Her back was turned to him, so he couldn't be sure if she was cute, but Gilbert didn't mind. She was obviously a freshman judging by the way she walked slowly and unsurely, hands gripping strongly onto her backpack.

A thrilling little jolt went through Gilbert as he imagined the trouble he could cause with this one. He took long, confident strides toward her and arrived behind her in only seven steps. He reached out and tapped her shoulder, causing her to jump a little in surprise.

"Excuse me, but you seem lost, miss—"

Gilbert's eyes went wide as the girl spun around to reveal that she was not a girl at all, but in fact, a boy. A rather cute and feminine boy, no doubt, but a boy nonetheless. Her—_his_—eyes were a dark violet in color, and there was a loopy curl that came off of his hair and hung beside his face. Gilbert could only blink a few times in confusion before realizing that he was staring, and the guy was looking at him like he was insane. The mystery guy raised an eyebrow.

"Miss?"

Suddenly Gilbert was the one feeling uncomfortable. Had he _actually_ mistaken a guy for a girl? Wait, maybe he could use this to his advantage.

"Yeah, Miss! I thought you were a girl at first! What's up with that?" There. That should be significantly mortifying, Gilbert thought with a smirk.

The guy looked down at the ground and blushed, kicking at the dirt. "Y-yeah…? It's my hair, right? My brother says I should get it cut, but nobody notices me much anyway, so…" He trailed off and actually _smiled_. "B-but look! It got me noticed! So I like my hair the way it is."

What the fuck was wrong with this guy? It was like he was immune to insults and ridicule.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Um, Matthew. Matthew Williams," he responded, then in a quieter voice, said: "We've, uh, been in the same English class since freshman year… Um… You're Gilbert, right?"

Gilbert could only blush from embarrassment. How the hell had he gone three years without knowing this guy existed? And he knew his name! Shit… He was actually feeling kind of bad for this Matthew person… Maybe… he could make it up to him? Just this once?

"Oh," Gilbert mumbled. "Yeah, I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'm awesome, so of course you would know my name!" he remarked, quickly getting some of his confidence back. Gilbert dug into his pocket and retrieved a crumpled class schedule, noting that he had English first period. If they'd had it together every year before…

"Do you have English first?" Gilbert asked. Matthew looked confused and slowly nodded his head.

"Yeah… With Mr. Hopper… Why?"

Gilbert smiled. "Good. Because I'm taking you to class," he concluded, grabbing Matthew's arm and dragging him towards the building their class would be in. Matthew stumbled and tried to keep up.

"E-eh? Wait, why?" he yelled, looking around him.

Gilbert only cackled as they made their way across the campus. What a strange first day!

This was going to be the most awesome senior year ever.

* * *

_A/N: That's right, Jel is taking on the 100 theme challenge! Be prepared for a giant clusterfuck of crack and a huge distraction from my other stories! Yay~!_

_This is a great and exciting undertaking for me, and I hope I do well!_

_Please leave constructive criticism in a review! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	2. Complicated

"Gilbert… I don't think we can do this anymore…"

"WHAT? What do you mean?"

"It's just getting too complicated. I can't fix it, and you're just making it worse."

"No I'm not! At least I'm trying! You just sit there and let me do all the work!"

"I just can't shake the feeling that we're missing something…"

"Is that it? I'll find it! Hang on!"

"What if it was never there to start with? All that hard work for nothing…"

"Don't you dare talk like that, Matthew! I'm gonna make this work!"

"Gil, there's nothing you can do to—"

"AHAH!"

The pair was silent for a long time as Gilbert put the last puzzle piece into place.

Literally.

"I told you I'd do it! Because I'm AWESOME!"

"Where did you find it? It's all chewed up!"

"Your pet polar bear got a hold of it. You need to train that thing not to grab stuff off the table."

"Remind me to never let you start a five thousand-piece puzzle again. Ever. That took way too long. I couldn't use the dining table for over a month!"

"But Mattie, it was your idea!"

"NEVER AGAIN!"

* * *

_A/N: Hahah, did you think they were about to break up? Nah._

_Two updates in one day? RECORD~! Maybe..._

_Please leave constructive criticism in a review! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	3. Making History

The summer night was still; the air, heavy with mist from rain earlier in the evening. Nocturnal insects sang out to the sleeping world. And a certain northern nation emerged from his bedroom wearing dark clothes and a rain jacket. He snuck through his house, trying not to wake his pet as he grabbed a worn old backpack from the coat peg on the wall next to the front door. Silently, he slipped through the exit and started his trek down the moon and streetlight-lit road.

There's something about Canada that only one other living soul in the entire world knows.

Once a year at midnight, after the first thunderstorm of summer, Canada goes out and does something thrilling and rebellious. He does something different every year. One time, he went to the nearest park and turned every garbage can that wasn't bolted to the ground upside-down. Last year he went around to random houses and executed the classic "ding-dong-ditch," an oldie but a goodie made sweeter by the fact that it was one in the morning, guaranteeing to wake someone up. This year it was graffiti, and he smiled, thinking of the stencils and cans of spray paint in his bag.

However, there was one thing that was never different about his little adventures, and that was the person he went on them with.

Just a bit further ahead, a young man with silvery white hair stood beneath a streetlight, smoking a cigarette. Looking up, the man saw Canada and smiled, then threw down the butt of his cigarette and stomped it out. Getting closer, Canada could see the man's red eyes glinting with mischief in the lamplight.

"Hey, Mattie," the silveret greeted familiarly.

"Hi, Gil," Canada—_Matthew_—said to Prussia, a giddy smile toying at his lips.

Historically, Canada and Prussia never had much contact. While it is true that some Prussians migrated to Canada, and there was that one time when Prussia sent some soldiers to protect Quebec City, their relationship as countries was almost strained. You could nearly call the nations strangers.

Gilbert and Matthew, however, were anything but strangers.

"Ready to go?" Gilbert asked, the excitement of causing trouble evident in his voice. Matthew nodded.

"Yeah. Where are we going first?"

"I saw an alley on my way here," Gilbert said, gesturing behind him. "The brick looks brand new. Really clean." Gilbert smirked deviously. "We should fix that."

Matthew grinned. "Perfect," he said, hitching his bag higher on his back. "Let's go!"

The pair sped through the streets to the alley Gilbert specified and began their work. The paint cans were broken out, and various vulgar and beautiful things were sprayed onto the wall, a somewhat-permanent reminder that they had been there.

Historically speaking, Canada and Prussia never had much contact. But on nights like these, they weren't making the kind of history that can be traced to textbooks and official documents. This was the history of Gilbert and Matthew, not of two nations. What they did tonight wouldn't affect the rest of the world, or change the relationship of their respective countries.

Tonight, it was just Matthew and Gilbert, causing trouble and laughing, holding hands and running, and making their own history.

* * *

_A/N: Three chapters in two days. Woo. I'm gonna be gone for a week. Boo._

_Hope you liked this chapter. I'll be late replying to reviews :(  
_

_Please leave constructive criticism in a review! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!  
_

_~Jel  
_


	4. Rivalry

Every night, Prussia and the stars above him compete for Canada's attention. Some might call it pointless, this one-sided rivalry with balls of brightly burning gas millions of light-years away. Others might call it psychotic. Prussia sees it as the final challenge to win Canada's heart.

If he could outshine the stars for just a moment in Canada's eyes…

* * *

_A/N: Short chapter is extremely short. Bite me. I rewrote this five times, each one with a different approach, and this is what fit best._


	5. Unbreakable

Gilbert found something… _odd_ in his locker today.

A folded sheet of paper with his name on it was neatly taped to the inside of the door, something that couldn't be done without opening it first. Gilbert was immediately put on alert. "Who has my locker combination?" he mumbled to himself, quickly going through a mental list of people with his combination (a list he probably shouldn't have, he realized). There was his little brother, of course, and Toni, Francis (unfortunately), Mattie, and… no, wait, that was it.

He unstuck the note from its spot on the metal and haphazardly opened it. Inside was a drawing of a perfect red circle encompassing his and Matthew's names. Gilbert didn't understand what it represented, but there was something about the picture that made butterflies flit around in his stomach.

The note looked suspiciously like one you would get from a lovesick middle school girl confessing her crush, and it made Gilbert uncomfortable.

And yet… strangely giddy…

At that moment, his plan of action was plain and simple: find Mattie and ask him about it.

* * *

"Mattie!" Gilbert called through the schoolyard, grabbing the attention of the blond. Immediately, Matthew turned around, and, upon seeing Gilbert, looked nervous. He forced a smile, though, and walked to meet the silveret.

"H-hi, Gil…" he said, waving shyly. "U-um, how are you?"

Always blunt and straight to the point, Gilbert pulled the note from his pocket and unfolded it, putting it on display for Matthew.

"What the hell does this thing mean?"

Matthew cringed away and blushed, looking at the ground. "I'm sorry! I didn't know you— I mean, if you don't feel the same way I get it, but— just forget about it, I didn't mean to—!"

"Matthew!" Gilbert interrupted, and gripped the boy's shoulders before pulling him into an impromptu kiss.

It probably looked awkward, because honestly, Gilbert sometimes forgot that Matthew was a few centimeters taller than himself.

Breaking off and pushing Matthew away a small step, Gilbert stared at him. "Do you like me or not?"

Matthew did nothing but splutter and grasp for words before finally settling upon a small, mumbled, "That was my first kiss…"

"Answer the question, Matthew."

Mattie flushed and fidgeted with the straps on his backpack. "…Yes. I do. I… really like you, Gil. And I'm sorry if this sort of ruins things… but I want to be more than just friends."

Gilbert sighed and let go of Matthew's shoulders. "You should have just told me instead of leaving some cryptic message in my locker," he said. "I still would have said yes."

Matthew's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates in surprise when he finally registered what Gilbert had said. "Really?!"

Gilbert flashed his trademark smirk and nodded. "Of course. I'd have to be stupid not to go out with one of the most awesome guys in the whole fucking school," he said, quickly adding, "Besides me, obviously."

"Th-thank you!" Mattie said, grinning the widest grin Gilbert had ever seen on his face. "You have no idea how happy I am right now!"

Gilbert let his smirk fall into a real smile, keeping his own sentiment to himself. The warning bell rang, signaling straggling kids to make a break for their next classes. Matthew moved as if he was going to run as well, but Gilbert caught him by the arm.

"Wait," he said, making Matthew stay. "What the hell does the circle mean?"

Matthew blushed and pulled his arm away, hitching his bag in preparation to leave. Finally, he confessed:

"It's because hearts break, but circles go on forever."

* * *

_A/N: Longer, sweeter chapter this time? Yes. Same universe as first chapter. Hope you liked it!_

_~Jel_


	6. Obsessed

He knew it was weird. Creepy, maybe. Probably very morally wrong. But he couldn't help it! Not when his neighbor was so beautifully exotic. His silvery hair; mussed about, never combed; framed his face perfectly. And his eyes—oh, his eyes!—shone like deep, red, polished garnet. The very moon seemed dim in comparison to his skin, which was a smooth, milky expanse of white over every single inch of his body.

Every. Inch. He'd seen.

Gilbert Beilschmidt was a man from the eastern side of Germany, who had moved in to the house next to his exactly four years, six months, and twenty-three days ago. His English hadn't been very good back then, so finding a job had been difficult for him at first. He eventually found his current job after three months and learning more English. He had a little brother named Ludwig who visited with his Italian boyfriend every month. His favorite color was black, and he had a pet canary named Gilbird. His favorite food was an odd meatball and gravy dish that seemed to be traditional cuisine from his home called Königsberger Klopse.

He also had a tattoo of a small black eagle on his left hip, towards the front.

Matthew thought that Gilbert should really learn to close his blinds. And lock his doors. And windows. And perhaps find a different hiding place for his diary. Under the bed was _way_ too predictable.

Gilbert had never met Matthew, but Matthew knew that when he did, they would be perfect for each other and move in together, and then keeping track of Gilbert would be _so_ much easier. Plus, the object of his desires would be so close, he would be able to reach out and touch him whenever—and however—he pleased.

Matthew planned on introducing himself tomorrow. Hopefully Gilbert wouldn't think it too strange that he'd waited four years, six months, and twenty-four days to do so.

* * *

_A/N: Creeper!Canada? Fuck yeah. I was thinking Prussia should be the creeper, but then thought, "Nah, too obvious. Canada." *nods* Yup, proud of how this one turned out *smirk*_

_Let me know what you thought of this chapter in a review. Pwetty pwease?_

_~Jel_


	7. Eternity

It was very dark. An unnatural darkness, it swallowed up everything and blinded Matthew. He found himself in this darkness very suddenly without warning. He was confused and afraid, and he didn't want to move for fear there would only be more nothing. There was simply no sound, no smell, no feeling, no taste to this place.

He blinked several times and moved his fingers and toes in attempt to relieve himself of his fear-induced paralysis. Eventually, he managed to shuffle his feet against whatever it was he was standing on. When he moved, he could suddenly feel a familiar sensation tickle his ankles. The sound of grass sighing as he stepped down filled his ears. Quietly, a familiar voice spoke out:

"Who's there?"

Matthew jumped at the noise. It sounded exactly like… but it couldn't be… could it?

"Gil?"

He took a step towards where he heard the voice coming from, to his right.

"Gil, is that you?" There wasn't an echo or any sort of reverberation that would indicate his being in a closed place, so he assumed that there were no boundaries wherever he was.

"Birdie?"

Matthew sighed in relief knowing Gilbert was with him. It somehow made the place a little more bearable.

"I'm here."

"Where are we?"

Matthew tried to look around, only to be met with more nothing.

"I have no idea."

Matthew felt around the darkness next to him and found Gilbert's hand. The threaded their fingers together and didn't let go.

"It's so dark," Gilbert whispered, sounding uncharacteristically hopeless and sad. Matthew squeezed his love's hand.

"I know."

"What should we do?"

"I guess we walk."

* * *

The pair traveled for what seemed like a very long time. They talked to each other about nothing, hummed, tried to sing songs, anything to fill in the unbearable silence that would take over should they stop. They quickly realized that their feet were bare. Gilbert asked if Matthew felt the grass, too. Matthew said yes, glad that he wasn't imagining things, when a thought struck him.

Couldn't he be imagining this whole situation?

The entire thing was a dream! It had to be!

"Gil, I'm dreaming!" Matthew exclaimed. "This isn't real!"

"Birdie, I don't think—" Gilbert tried to reason, but Matthew ignored him in his glee.

"If this is a dream, then I can do anything I want! I can control it!" Matthew rattled on. "I want it to be lighter in here!" he commanded.

The silence reigned once more as the two waited with bated breath for Matthew's command to become reality.

They waited.

And waited.

And _waited_.

Until finally…

_Nothing_ happened.

"I…" Matthew muttered. "I don't understand… I should be able to…"

"Birdie…" Gilbert said. "This isn't a dream." Matthew took in a shaking breath as Gilbert continued. "It's really real."

Just then, to the surprise of both men, a soft glow of white light ignited in the distance. Matthew blinked to let his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness and looked over to where Gilbert stood, only to gasp in horror at what he saw.

Gilbert's entire right arm was missing. Ripped off and bleeding profusely, the wound looked like it had only appeared moments ago. The bloodied stump of his shoulder was all that was left. There was also a bullet hole in his chest that looked like it had gone straight through his heart, and his left ear had been cut off. Matthew could only gape in absolute terror at the condition of his beloved, while Gilbert did the same.

"Matthew… Your head…" Gilbert uttered. Matthew was confused until he lifted the hand that wasn't holding Gilbert's to his head to feel around. He touched something slick, and brought his fingers back stained with blood. "Somebody… shot you…!"

"But…" Matthew started, staring at his hand in disbelief. "I don't feel anything. It doesn't hurt…" He dared to look again at Gilbert's mangled shoulder. "Does that mean… your shoulder… it doesn't hurt either?"

"My shoulder…?" Gilbert said in surprise, looking for the first time at what would have been his arm before screaming out in shock and panicked anger. "MY ARM! MY FUCKING ARM! IT'S GONE!" he yelled. "HOW THE FUCK DID I LOSE AN ARM WITHOUT FEELING IT?!" He searched the rest of his body in a panic, finding out about his missing ear and the bullet through his heart. "That's not possible!"

_He's right…_ Matthew thought. _In any case, we shouldn't even be alive…_ The light got a little brighter as he thought that. Could it be… it was giving him a hint? Like in a game of hotter and colder? _Does that mean… we're not alive?_ The light illuminated the area a little bit more. He now saw an expanse of tall grass and flowering plants all around them. Gilbert noticed, too, and gaped in awe.

"It's getting lighter! Matthew, how are you doing that?"

"We're not alive!" Matthew whispered, staring into the steadily brightening light. It was slowly becoming blinding, to the point where he had to squint his eyes as he quickly realized what the real answer was.

"We're… dead."

The light, for lack of a better word, exploded.

Matthew and Gilbert were suddenly thrown backwards onto the ground. Gilbert, without a right arm, had a harder time sitting back up, but Matthew helped pull him up. They squinted at the light that was rapidly getting closer. All too soon it was only a foot away from them, and Matthew and Gilbert could only stare in awe as a figure appeared from the center of the light.

"Matthew Williams. Gilbert Beilschmidt," a strong and clear voice called from within the light. "You have successfully rediscovered yourselves in spite of the events which have passed. For this, you shall be rewarded. You have three options." Two more balls of light appeared on either side of the figure. The one to the figure's right was a warm yellow. It glowed softly, radiating heat like a small, cheerful sun. The one on its left was a hot, fiery red. It gave off a dangerous vibe, and the core was dominated by a black pit.

"Option one: You may follow me into Paradise." The figure motioned behind him towards the white light. "There you will never hunger, never thirst, and never feel pain. There you will stay for the rest of eternity."

Gilbert and Matthew looked at each other, not believing what they were hearing. Paradise? For all of eternity? Matthew fidgeted in minor excitement. Isn't that what everybody wanted when they died? Wasn't that the goal of life? Eternity in Paradise? They looked back at the figure, which had continued speaking.

"Option two: You may be sent to suffer in fire and pain." This time, the figure motioned towards the red light. "There you will repent for sins and evils you have committed in your life which you feel cannot be forgiven. There you will stay for the rest of eternity."

Well… At least now they knew where they _wouldn't_ be going… Matthew swallowed thickly, nervous about what the third option could possibly be.

"Option three: You may stay here." Finally, the figure motioned to the yellow light. "Here you may build your own land and create it to your desires. You may fill it with whatever you wish. You may rule over it as its rulers or gods. You may live as humans, but you may change that, if you so choose. Here you will stay for the rest of eternity."

Matthew's fidgeting ceased as he listened to the final option. A place all their own? Somewhere they could be truly free? Matthew knew, even Paradise had to have its boundaries and rules, but here… They could do _anything_.

"What do you call yourself?" Gilbert boldly asked the figure.

"I am Britannia Angel, guardian of these gates. The two of you, bound by fate, appear before me in your death. Choose wisely, for you may never change your mind."

"What do we…? I don't… Gilbert?" Matthew struggled helplessly for words, the two most obvious choices spinning in his head. On one end was Paradise, an eternity of bliss and beauty. On the other end was a land they could rule over all their own and change at will. They didn't even have to create other people if they didn't want to, Matthew suddenly realized. It was very tempting.

"What do you want, Mattie?" Gilbert asked. He was clearly having a hard time deciding as well.

"I want…" Matthew started, thinking hard. "I want… freedom. I want to be with you, without anyone to tell us what we can or can't be."

Gilbert nodded solemnly. "So… you're saying you want to stay here?"

"I… Yes." Matthew spoke with a finality that caused Britannia Angel to call out once again:

"Is this your final decision?"

Matthew and Gilbert both nodded in affirmation. This was a chance they were taking, both unaware of what was in store. But this was an eternity of possible adventure! Of freedom and beauty and control. It would hopefully turn out for the best.

"Then it shall be." Britannia took the yellow light from his right and held it in front of himself. Matthew and Gilbert looked on with curious awe as Britannia threw it high into the sky where it floated up and up and up until it reached its peak. Then it began to move down towards a horizon, where it dipped down just enough to shroud half of the light. It looked like a sunrise.

"I will repair the wounds that were inflicted upon you in your death, and then take my leave." With a pulse of light from the angel, Gilbert's arm was suddenly replaced, as was his ear, and there was no bullet through his heart. Matthew assumed that his head was fixed, too, though it hadn't hurt in the first place.

Caught up in their relief to see each other whole again, Matthew and Gilbert didn't notice the angel vanish along with the other two lights. Matthew could only cling to Gilbert as he registered what had happened to them.

This was _their_ world.

An experimental idea struck him. Standing up, he stared down at the ground before him, covered in grass and wildflowers. Gilbert made a sound of surprise and confusion, and stood up, too.

"What are you doing?" he asked Matthew.

"He said we could make anything," Matthew explained. "I want to test it. Stand back."

Gilbert didn't question him and did as he was told. Matthew concentrated harder and harder on the patch of grass before him, then finally said:

"I want a big oak tree to grow in that spot," he commanded in his quiet voice.

At first, nothing happened. Minutes passed, and Matthew deflated, greatly disappointed. They'd been lied to… or perhaps he just wasn't trying hard enough…?

In any case, Gilbert became enraged, and started cursing at everything. "Why, that lying, cheating, fucking son of a—!"

"Gil!" Matthew interrupted, pointing. "Look!"

There, in the grassy patch before them, sprouted a tiny sprig of leaves. The sprout quickly grew into a sapling, reaching Matthew's knees in height. The sapling grew and grew and grew until it was a tall, strong, beautiful tree, towering over them. Leaves flourished, creating a thick, green canopy in the branches above that provided shade for the two standing beneath it. The trunk grew wider in proportion to the tree, so much so that even if Matthew and Gilbert both wrapped their arms around it, their fingers still wouldn't touch.

"Gilbert… I did it!" Matthew said. "I made a tree! A great, big tree!"

Gilbert's eyes widened in surprise. "You… but…" he mumbled, at a complete loss for words. "Wow…"

"I can do anything!" Matthew continued with his happiness overflowing. "Gil, _you_ can do anything! This is our world!"

Gilbert was very quiet as he took in this information. He stepped back away from Matthew and simply turned in a complete circle, looking at the land around him. Finally, after he seemed satisfied with his observations, he spoke:

"It's ours for all of eternity."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. The ending was a bitch to write, and I'm still not very satisfied, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer!_

_For those of you who have read my other fic, Ringing Insanity, this will seem familiar. If you haven't read that and you're confused, it might do you some good to read it to clear things up. This is simply a closer glimpse of my AU for the afterlife. The rules are: once you die, you are sent to this dark place, and you forget one aspect of your life. In Ringing Insanity, Matthew forgot Gilbert. In this chapter, they are both unaware that they have died. The light in the distance, as Matthew discovered in this chapter, is meant to get brighter as you discover more clues about the thing you forgot. Once you remember, Britannia Angel appears and gives you the three choices he gave Matthew and Gilbert in this chapter. In Ringing Insanity, Matthew and Gilbert both found a loophole so that they could become ghosts on Earth. You cannot become a ghost unless you ask for it, because it is not an option._

_That's pretty much it. If you have any questions, PM me or leave a review with your question._

_I just started school, so if you notice that I'm not updating this story as quickly, that's probably why._

_Sorry for the long A/N! Please leave some constructive criticism! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	8. Gateway

Matthew stood at the edge of the precipice, trying his hardest not to look down. Fear and apprehension and excitement ate at his gut all at once as he stared out at the other five teenagers who had jumped off before him. The breeze flitted through the grasses and flowers around him, and lifted his curly, blond hair. The wind was fresh and tempting. It awakened a sleeping instinct that he'd heard about only in stories. It told him to leap into the blue, to jump and be at the mercy of the sky, to step off and fall into the strong currents of air that would surely carry him to freedom.

But a deeper, more repressed instinct told him that should he fail, the sudden stop at the end of his leap would kill him.

"Mattie?" somebody behind him said. Turning around, Matthew saw it was the last person in line.

"Oh. Hi, Gil…"

Gilbert was a strange young man as far as personalities go, and even stranger when it came to appearances. His hair was a startling shade of bright silver, and his eyes were deep red, unlike everyone else's average green or blue eyes, or even Matthew's own dark violet ones.

"What are you doing just standing there?" Gilbert asked. "Everyone else has already jumped."

"I know…" Matthew said. "It's just that… I feel…" He shook his head. "I can't explain it."

"Are you scared?" Gilbert asked, though it didn't really sound like a question.

Matthew nodded. "…Yes. And I feel so weak. Something inside me won't let me do it."

"What does it say?"

"It says…" Matthew hesitated, thinking. "It says that this is dangerous. It says that if I had any common sense, I would climb back down and not try to do this again, no matter what everybody else is doing."

"Mattie, it's okay to be scared," Gilbert said. "It's just the human part of you waking up when you're in danger."

"But I don't want to be human, Gilbert! I want to fly!"

"Then do it! There's nothing but your own fear stopping you!"

Matthew shook his head. "No… it's too strong. It won't let me…"

Gilbert scowled and strode towards Matthew, grabbing him by the hand. "Listen to me, Matthew! I'm not gonna let you just stand there and tell me that you can't do this, because you can! Your brother did it, the twins did it, Arthur did it; hell, even Ivan did it! And my brother's gonna do it next year!" Gilbert paused to take a breath, then continued: "This is probably the most significant moment of your life right now. Little kids look up to us and they think 'Wow, I can't wait to do that!' because it's what we live for! Our lives are leading up to this moment, don't you get that? It's just fear, and fear can be crushed!"

Matthew stared at Gilbert for a long moment without saying anything before averting his gaze. He tried not to focus on Gilbert's disappointed speech, opting instead to look at the flowers growing along the very edge of the cliff.

They looked so free...

Finally, Matthew made a decision and looked back at Gilbert.

"I don't want to do it alone," he said, determined.

Gilbert nodded and tightened his grip on Matthew's hand. "I won't let you."

Matthew smiled and let Gilbert lead him towards the cliff edge. He looked out again for the others who had jumped before him, only to realize that they were too far gone to see. A quick glance at Gilbert told him that it was time. Matthew swallowed.

"Are you ready?" Gilbert asked. Matthew let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Yes."

Gilbert grinned. "All right! I'm counting down! Three!"

Matthew widened his stance and leaned back on his feet.

"Two!"

He tightened his hand around Gilbert's until his knuckles turned white.

"One!"

He crouched down to get as much energy as he could out of his jump.

"GO!"

Matthew and Gilbert leaped from the solid ground and into the sky. Their arms and legs flailed through the air as they fell down, down, down into the valley. The ground came up at them at a frightening, remarkable speed. At this rate, they would hit the ground with enough force to break every single bone in their bodies. It felt like flight, but Matthew knew they were only in free fall. They weren't really flying.

At least, not yet.

"NOW!" Gilbert tried to yell over the thunderous sound of the wind. Matthew couldn't hear him, but he knew what he meant.

His feathered white wings unfurled, and a jolt of pain shot through his back as the wide appendages caught the air, jerking him to a much slower speed and wrenching his hand out of Gilbert's. Knowing that this would happen if he opened his wings mid-fall, Matthew ignored the pain and flapped his wings, causing enough thrust to glide forward easily onto an updraft that lifted him higher into the air.

Now that the worst part was over, he looked around the sky for Gilbert's telltale black wings, and spotted him below, riding the same updraft as Matthew. Gilbert looked up and smiled broadly.

They were flying.

The sensation was exhilarating. The wind supported their every movement, ebbing and flowing like ocean currents. Matthew could see for miles and miles around him; the rivers, grassy hilltops, and lush forests rolled by beneath him. He looked back at the cliff he'd jumped from only moments ago that was slowly dwindling in the distance, at the flowers that had looked so free. They were prisoners of the earth compared to him, now.

Gilbert eventually caught up and trailed behind Matthew, leisurely gliding on the wind. Matthew didn't know where they were going yet, but he supposed it didn't matter. They could catch up with the others, or maybe blaze their own trail. There was nothing stopping him now, not even fear itself.

That's the way it would stay for a very long time.

* * *

_A/N: __"We think a flower on a cliff is beautiful because we stop our feet at the cliff's edge, unable to step out into the sky like that fearless flower"_

_You thought they were gonna kill themselves... Admit it, you were thinking it._

_This chapter annoyed me so much. I wanted to be as accurate with the wings as possible as far as size and position goes, but then discovered that in order for humans to fly, they would need a 4-foot-deep chest cavity in order to contain the muscles it would take to support yourself with wings. Needless to say, I took some creative liberties here, but it still annoys me that a person with wings wouldn't really LOOK like a person with wings._

_Please be nice and leave a review! Constructive criticism is welcome! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	9. Death

Matthew trudged up the stairs of the building, making his way towards his apartment. It had been a long day; helping his brother move was never a pleasant thing. He unlocked the door and went in, staying upright until he made it to his couch where he finally collapsed in a tired heap. His bones ached from lifting so many heavy boxes filled with who-knows-what. Rocks? Bricks? It didn't matter. He was home now, free to relax.

He turned on the TV and flipped through the channels for something to watch. Hockey season was over, and nothing else was on that was worth watching, so he settled for some news channel. It served as white noise, and Matthew found himself closing his eyes and trying to sleep as he waited for Gilbert to get home from work.

However, he simply couldn't drift off. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he remembered the little velvet box in his pocket.

Today was the day. And any minute now, Gilbert would walk through the front door, and Matthew would greet him with a kiss, and then start preparing a special dinner, and Gilbert would be curious as to why Matthew was going to all the trouble, and then-

Something on the news grabbed Matthew's attention.

"_Today, a string of murders has left the downtown area in a panic._"

Matthew opened his eyes and sat up. Gilbert worked downtown... No, that was silly. Matthew chuckled to himself for having that sort of idea and listened to the rest of the broadcast.

"_The ten victims so far have all been adult males, killed with a bullet to either the chest or the head. Of the victims, four of them were partially dismembered. Investigators are in the process of identifying the bodies..."_

_How terrible,_ Matthew thought. _The families of those men must be devastated. I'm so lucky that Gilbert isn't—_

Matthew's cell phone rang in his pocket. Still half-listening to the news, he grabbed his phone and looked at the caller ID. It was an unknown number. He answered anyway.

"Hello?"

"_This is Jackson Fanatico, chief of police. Am I speaking to Matthew Williams?_" the voice on the other end asked.

Matthew froze. Why would the police be calling him? "Yes, I'm Matthew. Um, why are you calling?"

"_We think you could identify a body for us,_" the man said. "_It won't take long..._"

Matthew stiffly agreed and was given an address. Jackson thanked him and hung up.

Matthew didn't move to put his phone down. Dread gripped his stomach in icy tendrils as he tried to tell himself it wasn't possible. Gilbert was fine. This person would be someone he'd only met in passing, or who... who... It just couldn't be...

His fears were confirmed, though, when he arrived at the address and was led into a cold, clean room. There were ten metal tables, the contents of which covered in white sheets. A man in a police uniform greeted him, shaking his hand and introducing himself as the man on the phone. Jackson led Matthew to one of the metal tables and, with little warning, unveiled the body.

Matthew choked up as the sheet was removed, revealing a human's mangled form.

His right arm was gone, along with his left ear, both cleanly severed.

_Of the victims, four of them were partially dismembered..._

There was a bullet hole piercing straight through his heart.

… _killed with a bullet to either the chest or the head..._

His eyes had been closed for him, so it looked like he was sleeping peacefully. A tear fell onto the lifeless face.

"Do you know this man?" Jackson asked, though the answer was painfully obvious. Matthew nodded.

"Y-y-yes..." he mumbled through his tears. "Th-that's Gilbert B-Beilschmidt..."

Jackson gave him a pitying look. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss." The words were empty, rehearsed. "If you're comfortable, would you please tell me what your relationship was to this man? Friends? Family? Any information is helpful."

"He was my lover," Matthew said, not caring what the man thought of him now, but at the same time trying not to completely fall apart. "We've been living together for over two years. I..." He paused to wipe his face. This wasn't supposed to happen to him. Not when things had been so perfect. "I was going to propose to him when he got home today, but..."

The officer nodded as if he understood, but Matthew knew that he never could. Matthew shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling around for the box he would never be able to show Gilbert, never present the white gold ring embedded with a small ruby the color of his eyes, never slip the band onto his love's ring finger as he tried to hold back happy tears.

There were tears, now, but they were far from happy.

Jackson thanked Matthew in a tone colder than the frigid room and sent him away. Matthew walked, dejected and torn apart down the street, to the closest bus stop. It was dark, and had started to rain. How fitting. He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't care at the moment. He took the box out of his pocket and turned it over in his hands, hoping that the feel of the soft velvet would calm him down, but it only served to upset him more, thinking about everything that could have been.

Absorbed in his bubble of self-pity and sorrow, Matthew didn't notice the man stalking up to him with a pistol in his hand. He barely felt the cool metal of the gun against his temple. He hardly registered Jackson's growled words:

"Die, faggot."

There was a flash of red, then white, then nothing. The box tumbled out of his hand and landed in a growing pool of water and blood.

* * *

_A/N: Did I make you cry? I hope I did. That's what I was going for. Of course, with a title like "Death," what were you expecting?_

_Think of this as a prequel to "Eternity." There will probably be another chapter in this universe. I like it :)_

_I'll be honest, this was very difficult to get started. You can thank my best friend for killing off Canada._

_Please leave constructive criticism in a review! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	10. Opportunities

"Gilbert," Matthew said over his newspaper and breakfast. "You need a job."

Gilbert, who had been about to spear a piece of pancake slathered in maple syrup with his fork, paused and looked up at Matthew.

"What?" said Gilbert.

"You heard me," said Matthew. "A job."

Gilbert sneered. "The awesome me does not need a job! No place is awesome enough for me to work at!"

Matthew sighed. "I'm not asking you to do something boring. Just get a job. We need the extra income."

"But job-hunting takes for_ever!_" Gilbert complained.

Matthew had been prepared for this, and got up from the table. He left the kitchen for a minute and returned with a dart board and some darts. Hanging the board on the wall, he retrieved his newspaper from the kitchen table and pinned the want ads up on the dart board. He handed some darts to Gilbert.

"How come you never told me we had these?" Gilbert mumbled, weighing the darts in his hand. Getting the point as to what he should do, he stood up and stepped away from the wall. He threw the dart.

It missed the newspaper by a few inches and firmly lodged itself into the wall.

Matthew stared in disbelief as Gilbert threw dart after dart, missing the newspaper completely each time. Matthew was about to stop him to protect the rest of his kitchen wall, when Gilbert roared in frustration and ran at the board with the last dart in hand. He drew his arm back and jammed the dart into the board.

Seeming satisfied, Gilbert turned to look at Matthew, who went up to inspect the board. He pulled the dart out of the board and read where it struck out loud.

"Beer taster."

"FUCK YES!"

* * *

_A/N: This chapter goes out to CommanderApple for planting the idea of "job opportunity" in my head._

_First person to guess where I got the idea of choosing a job via darts gets a fic~_

_Please leave constructive criticism in a review! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	11. 33 Percent

"Class, I have your final project of the semester graded," Mr. Hopper, a short man with gray hair and a noticeable southern dialect, announced. He was Matthew and Gilbert's English 405 teacher. "I'm passing out the essay part now. Your score is at the top."

The classroom erupted into quiet chatter as Mr. Hopper walked around, handing out papers. Gilbert immediately turned to Matthew, who sat beside him in this class, and started spouting about how awesomely he had done on this project. Matthew nodded, agreeing blindly to Gilbert's claims of an expected perfect score.

"So what do you think you got?" Gilbert asked. Matthew shrugged.

"I dunno." Matthew normally did very well in this class, but he was modest about it. "Hopefully an A," he admitted, and left it at that.

"Matthew Williams," Mr. Hopper said, walking up to Matthew with his essay in hand. "I'm real disappointed in this essay." He put the paper face down on Matthew's desk. "You usually do such a good job. We can talk after class about making this up, but for now, read over my comments, okay?" Mr. Hopper walked away to pass out the rest of the papers.

To say that Matthew was confused would be a massive understatement. Gilbert peered over to see his boyfriend's grade.

"Holy shit..."

Matthew stared in shock at the bold, red 33% written at the top of his paper. It was riddled with red editing marks and long comments in the margins. The font was Comic Sans, the least professional typeface to choose for a midterm paper. The MLA heading was done incorrectly, the margins were larger than one inch, and it definitely wasn't double-spaced.

It was an English teacher's worst nightmare.

And Matthew's name was on it.

Reading over the actual paper, he saw that it had nothing to do with his actual topic, and the number of spelling and grammar errors was so outrageous that Mr. Hopper had clearly stopped trying to correct them two pages in.

In the middle of the paper, "Alfredo Jones rocks!" was typed in all caps, bolded, underlined, italicized, and enlarged to 20 point font.

The temptation to scream in frustration was unbearable.

That was the _last_ time Matthew would ever ask his brother to print something out for him.

* * *

_A/N: Fanfuckingtastic, two updates in one day! And my English teacher has officially invaded this story's vital regions :3 Mr. Hopper would be so proud... Maybe..._

_Same universe as the first chapter._

_Nobody has guessed the reference from "Opportunities" yet. The contest still stands!_

_Please leave constructive criticism in a review! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	12. Dead Wrong

Matthew always thought that Gilbert was just a really good friend.

He was wrong.

He thought that the butterflies he got in his stomach whenever he was around were just from nervousness of saying something stupid in front of the confident young man.

He was wrong.

He thought that his cousin Francis was being stupid for thinking that he had a crush on Gilbert.

He was wrong.

He thought that since he and Gilbert had been such good friends for so long that he couldn't _possibly_ fall in love with him.

He was wrong.

He thought that, once he came to terms with his feelings, that Gilbert couldn't _possibly_ feel the same way.

Oh, he was _dead_ wrong.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, first of all, congratulations to seqka711 for guessing where "Opportunities" was inspired from :) The correct answer was The Fairly Oddparents. She'll receive a gift fic which I will publish as soon as I know what she wants ^^;_

_Second of all, this is the third chapter I've uploaded today. Whatthefuckeryisthismadness._

_Please leave constructive criticism in a review! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_Over and out!_

_~Jel_


	13. Running Away

It's hard being a country. Canada knows this very well. Almost every aspect of it seems to be undesirable, from dealing with foreign affairs, to making sure his economy is doing well, to trying to keep his own territories unified and happy.

However, these things were nothing compared to the constant, underlying knowledge that one day, he would simply cease to exist.

Canada wasn't stupid. He knew the truth about death. And how easy it was to die! A border change here, a depression there, and you don't know who you are anymore. Before you know it, your citizens change allegiance, and you're dissolved. Nothing left of you besides what's written in textbooks. Nobody could simply survive dissolution.

Nobody, that is, besides Prussia, apparently.

The country was gone, and yet the person remained, and Canada didn't know _why_. Why did he stay? Why didn't he die like the rest of the countries of old? Was it choice? Was it fate? Was there a secret he knew that nobody else did? Canada wanted to know, desperately so.

That's why he was running away from it all.

In all those years Prussia had been captured by Russia, cut off from all his responsibilities as a country, he must have discovered the secret. The answer to life, lying in solitude. Countless human philosophers had done it before, so why couldn't he?

A few years alone in the forest would do him good, he thought. The world could do without him, he thought. Nobody would notice anyway, he thought.

What he hadn't counted on was somebody coming after him.

Three months into his journey, Canada thought he was doing rather well for himself. He'd lived in the wild before he had been discovered by France and England all those centuries ago, so there was nothing difficult about it. The forest was a bountiful place, full of food, shelter, and water if you knew where to look, and Canada knew exactly where to look. The wildlife recognized the land on which they lived, and didn't attack him. He didn't do as much thinking as he thought he would within that time, but he figured he had plenty of time to do that, right?

The old hunter-gatherer within him woke up. He remembered the ways of the ancient natives who used to live on his land, who made their own weapons, traps, clothing, and shelter. It was invigorating. Canada felt himself forgetting about the country he represented, about alliances and money and war, about civilization itself.

He was going wild.

The person who found him must have been really shocked to find him like that.

Canada had been hunting, growing bored of his recent diet of wild greenery and berries. He wanted meat, and he was going to get it. He stalked through the woods silently, his footing sure as he trailed a sizable deer with a bow and whittled arrows. The deer stopped in a small clearing, and Canada stayed crouched behind the brush of the woods. He quietly drew his bow, took aim...

And flinched as he heard a branch snap behind him. The deer spooked and ran away, ruining Canada's chance at a decent meal. He whirled around, bow drawn and aimed at the figure stumbling through the brush in defense. There was a flash of white and red through the shade of the trees, and gradually Canada recognized who the figure belonged to. He lowered his bow.

"... Prussia?"

The dissolved nation eventually broke through the last of the trees and briars, cursing up a storm as Canada stared in awe. Hearing Canada say his name, Prussia looked up in confusion, not seeming to recognize the man at first.

"… Canada?"

It had been three months since Canada had seen another person. He simply didn't know how to react. So he did what he'd been doing for over three months now.

He ran away.

He turned on his heel and sprinted into the clearing, leaving a very confused Prussia in the dust. When he was halfway across, he heard Prussia following him. He ran faster, eventually making it to the cover of the trees on the other side. He took a deer path into the center of the forest, towards the huge, ancient tree with roots large enough to crawl under into a den he had dug for himself as shelter. His heart pounded as he listened for Prussia's footsteps approaching, getting closer and closer to his refuge.

Eventually the steps stopped in front of the entrance, and Canada held his breath. All was still, save for the birds chirping and the insects singing. He saw Prussia's boots through the hole, covered in mud and gunk from his trek through the forest. Canada wondered if Prussia somehow knew he was there. He wondered if he would look inside his little foxhole, or if he would walk away and continue his search.

Prussia did neither one of those things, though, and instead spoke.

"Why did you do this?" he whispered. Canada didn't answer him. "Everyone's been worried sick. We all thought..." He trailed off.

"You all thought I was dead," Canada finished for him, tone uncharacteristically icy.

Prussia sighed. "Will you come out?" he asked.

"No."

"Can I come in, then?"

Canada was quiet again, but he also didn't say no. Prussia clearly took that as an invitation, and attempted to squeeze through the tight opening between the root and the ground. After struggling for a few minutes, he finally managed to get inside, tumbling gracelessly to the dirt floor as Canada scooted out of the way with a chuckle.

Prussia sat up in the slightly cramped space and dusted his clothes off, wincing as he did so. "Fuck, that hurt..." he grumbled. "Way to choose the most uncomfortable hiding spot, man."

Canada shook his head, trying not to smile. "You are completely helpless..."

For the first time in a long time, Canada had a conversation with another person, all the while feeling self-conscious about his appearance, as stupid as that was. His hair was gnarled with dirt and tangles, and bits of leaves and twigs stuck out here and there. His face was coated in a layer of grime and mud, and his clothes were filthy and tattered in places, but Prussia didn't comment on any of it. They talked instead about each others' brothers, the never-ending social problems that enveloped the European countries, and how many times America had promised to "save my little bro at any cost, yo!" at the world meetings, though most nations ignored his empty promises.

"You didn't ignore him, though," Canada mentioned. "You came and looked for me." Prussia didn't respond to that. "Why?"

"Because..." Prussia started, thinking his words through. "Because it was pretty obvious that nobody else was going to. And things were getting kind of crazy at your house with you gone. And Frenchie was getting worried about his poor little colony," he said, cackling to himself. "But it looks like you took care of yourself pretty good, kid! Were you out here the whole time?"

Matthew nodded, patting the dried grass floor. "I finished digging this out about a month ago. It's more comfortable than sleeping in a tree. And hunting's not that hard, so I had food. There's a clean stream a little ways east of here, so water's not a problem."

Prussia grinned in approval. "That's fucking badass. Did ya' fight any bears?"

Canada rolled his eyes. "Only a moron would pick a fight with a bear."

Prussia laughed. "Yeah, yeah, just testing you. You should teach me some of your awesome wild survival skills when we get you back home."

Canada stared at Prussia with a confused look. "Go back?" he asked. "Why on Earth would I do that?"

Prussia frowned. "Because you have to, duh? You… weren't planning on not going back, were you? You have to get your place back under control."

Leave it to Prussia to be responsible at Canada's only inconvenience…

"Prussia, I'm not going back," Canada retorted. "I happen to like it out here."

"You can't be fucking serious!" Prussia groaned, shaking his head. "Your people need you! You have to go back!"

"No, I don't." Canada was adamant.

"Yes, you do!" Prussia seemed to get an idea. "What about when winter comes? You can't survive that in what you're wearing, no way."

"I'll just... um..." Canada hesitated. Shit, Prussia had found a loophole. But no, Canada wasn't going back without a fight. "Okay, so I couldn't live out here during winter. But winter's still a few months away! Why should I go back _now?_"

"Don't you miss your brother?" Prussia pleaded. "Don't you miss anyone? Or do you just not care?"

"It's not like anyone else missed _me_," Canada mumbled. "It's been three months, and you're the only one who's bothered to look for me."

Prussia sighed. "How the hell can I convince you to come back?"

"You can't," Canada said simply. Prussia frowned and reached into his pocket. "What are you-"

He pulled out a tiny bottle of maple syrup. Canada literally salivated. Prussia smirked. He knew he'd won.

"You can't have this," he taunted, waving the little bottle in front of Canada's face, and then swiping it back away with a devilish grin. "Unless you come back home."

Canada's resolve melted away almost immediately. He reached out and grabbed the bottle from Prussia, scowling at his own weakness.

"... I hate you..." he said. Prussia just grinned and prepared to crawl out of the tiny space.

"Yeah, yeah, love you, too."

* * *

_A/N: This took waaaaay too long to write. I apologize. *bows*_

_Who can imagine Canada going native? *raises hand* I think he'd be pretty badass :)_

_Next chapter is a gift fic for seqka711! It'll make more sense if you've seen HetaHazard, so I suggest you do that._

_Please leave constructive criticism (or just comments) in a review! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	14. Judgment

There were sixteen people in the parlor of the mansion. One Germany, one Italy, one Japan, one China, one America, one Canada, one England, one Russia, one France, one Hong Kong, one Romano, one Spain, one Finland, and one dead T-Creature, though that wasn't the issue at the time.

No, the issue was that there were two Prussias, and one of them was an exceptionally good actor.

"So..." America wondered out loud. "Which one is the real Prussia?"

"I AM!" the Prussias said at the same time before turning to each other and scowling. "No, I am!" they shouted, once again simultaneously. "Stop that!"

"That's... almost scary, aru."

"They certainly are similar, да?"

"You can't _both_ be the real Prussia," England said. "One of you is a clone."

"And _he's_ the clone!" the Prussia on the left cried out, pointing to the Prussia on the right. (For better understanding, let's just call the left and right Prussias Prussia A and Prussia B, respectively.)

"I can't be the clone if you are, duh!" Prussia B retorted.

"We need to figure out a way to tell them apart..." Germany mused.

"Oh! I know!" America said. "We need to ask them questions that only the real Prussia would know!"

"And where, dare I ask, did you get that idea?" England asked, obviously skeptical.

"TV!" America said with a huge grin, eliciting eye-rolls from almost everyone in the room. "It's foolproof, I'm telling 'ya!"

"Veh..." Italy piped up. "It _could_ work... I think."

"Yeah! Listen to Ita-chen!" Prussia A agreed. "Ask the awesome me anything!"

Germany nodded. "Okay. We should all get the chance to ask them questions. If anybody has a question for them, raise your hand and I'll call on you." Nobody objected, and Germany walked up to Prussia and the imposter. "Right. I'll go first. Make sure to answer by whispering, so the other cannot hear you." He paused, thinking of a question. "All right, what's your favorite drink?"

Both Prussias whispered their answers to Germany, who turned back to the group. "They were both right."

"Dude, of course they were right," America complained. "Everybody knows that Prussia likes beer. You need to ask a super-secret question that only the true Prussia would know! You know, something personal!"

"I have a question!" Spain said, raising his hand. "It's personal, and the real Prussia knows the answer."

"Good!" America said. "Go ahead!"

Spain smiled and went up to the Prussias. "Okay, here's my question: Who do I love the very very most?"

"_Bastardo_, don't ask them that!" Romano exclaimed. Both Prussias smirked and whispered the answer to Spain, who grinned wider.

"_Si_, that's right~!"

This went on for some time, with each country asking a question, and every time, both Prussias would get it right. Everyone had asked them questions, but nobody seemed to be able to figure out who was who. The group was running out of ideas, and fast.

However, there was one person who hadn't asked anything yet.

Canada, who had been ignored for most of the questioning, stepped forward to Prussia A and B. He looked them over, once, twice, a third time before speaking:

"I won't be fooled a second time."

Prussia A's expression was unreadable, while Prussia B looked confused.

"I think only one of you can get this right," Canada said. "There is only one person in this room who remembers the answer to this one, and that's Prussia." He paused. "The _real_ Prussia."

Prussia B nodded slowly. "… Okay…"

Canada looked between the two once more before asking his question. "What is my name?"

Prussia A's face split in a grin, and he leaned in to whisper his answer into Canada's ear, sounding confident, as if he'd won. Prussia B didn't answer right away. He seemed to be thinking, gauging Prussia A's little victory smile. Finally, he whispered his answer, too.

Prussia B's answer was different from Prussia A's.

Canada turned back to the group of countries. "I know who the real Prussia is," he announced. For once, he got the attention of the others, all of whom were waiting for the truth.

"It's totally me, right?" Prussia A said. "That was such an easy question! I can't believe you got it wrong, you clone! Didn't you do any research on these guys?"

"Actually," Prussia B said. "I think you should shut your trap for a minute and let _Matthew_ decide."

Prussia A paled. "… Matthew? But… But you… I never heard… His name _is_ Canada! Not Matthew!"

"Joke's on you, you big fake!" Prussia B, the _real_ Prussia, said. (Now that we know who is who, let's call the real Prussia Prussia and the fake one Clone.) "Nobody ever uses Mattie's real name besides me, 'cuz I'm awesome enough to remember it!" He laughed and hooked an arm around Canada's shoulders, who gave a tiny smile.

"Each country has a real name that our loved ones can call us. Like sometimes Spain calls Romano 'Lovi,' and America calls England 'Arthur' when he's talking to me about him," Canada explained quietly.

Both mentioned tsunderes spluttered in embarrassment and looked like they were about to attack Canada for saying that, but Spain and America held them back.

"I…" Clone mumbled, façade falling. "I didn't know that… nobody ever told me…" He frowned. "I tried to be Prussia. That's who I'm supposed to be, but… That's not who I am!" He looked over to Prussia. "I look like you, but I'm not you! And… and the worst part is I don't know who _I_ am. I know who I was _supposed_ to be, but… I… I'm just so confused… When I see all of you together like that, I feel… I want to be loved, too…"

"You poor thing…" Finland said. "It's terrible that you feel that way, but what can we—oh!" He snapped his fingers in realization. "I know! I'll take him in!"

Everybody turned to stare at Finland in surprise. Clone's eyes widened.

"You'll what?"

Finland smiled. "I live with Sweden and a little boy named Sealand and a dog named Hanatamago, and I think you'd get along with them really well! Would you like to come and live with us?"

Clone could only blink. "Come… live with you?" he echoed. "Would you really do that?"

"Kesesese, I think it's either that or live here with that thing," Prussia said, pointing at the dead T-Creature. "Don't worry, Finny's super nice. A real pushover."

"Is that really okay?" Clone asked. Finland nodded.

"Of course! Underneath all that pretending, you're a really good guy, I can tell! I wouldn't be able to be a good Santa if I couldn't tell who was good and who wasn't!"

Clone smiled a tiny smile, completely opposite of the way the real Prussia would have. "Okay… Okay, thank you!"

There was a moment of silence as the people in the room processed what had just happened. Then, America once again interrupted.

"So are we gonna get out of here or not?"

* * *

_A/N: This is a gift fic for seqka711! She wanted a scene from HetaHazard where Canada had to tell the real and clone Prussias apart. I hope you liked it!_

_However... I really don't like doing fics based on unfinished things unless they're in a universe I've made up ^^; At any time, even within the next update, the plot could completely change, leaving this irrelevant and incorrect. I'll admit, though; it was fun to write :)_

_I always felt so sorry for Clone!Prussia from HetaHazard. At some point he's called a puppet :( How cruel! And you can tell that he doesn't want to be Prussia; he wants to be himself._

_I just really wanna hug him~!_

_Please leave constructive criticism or comments in a review! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	15. Seeking Solace

The night was cold, and Matthew's breath came out in little puffs of white frost as he tried to keep up with Gilbert's quick walking pace. Matthew slipped on the wet grass and stumbled up the hill they were climbing, but never quite falling because Gilbert's gloved hand had a firm grip on his own. Matthew had stopped asking where they were going ages ago, seeing as how Gilbert wasn't speaking, instead intent on navigating through Matthew's backyard, through some woods, across a creek, and finally up this dew-dampened hill covered in tall grasses and weeds. To say that Matthew was being kept in the dark would be an accurate and literal assumption, considering it was nearly midnight, and the sky held only a small sliver of the moon. Curiosity was eating away at Matthew's mind as he wondered why in the world Gilbert woke him up at this ungodly hour, if only to drag him up a hill that would probably be easier to climb in the daylight.

Eventually, the hill's gradient decreased, and finally, Gilbert spoke.

"We're almost there. Just over this ledge."

Luckily for Matthew, Gilbert was telling the truth, and with one last clamber up the hard-packed dirt of a small bank, he saw exactly why Gilbert had brought him up here at night.

"Oh my god..."

Matthew could barely whisper in awe as he took in the sight before him. At the top of this climb was a huge meadow, filled with tall brown grasses glowing golden in the little light that came from the moon. Away from the bright lights of Matthew's house and the surrounding neighborhood, the stars could shine, bright and proud against the inky black sky. Tethered between the trunks of two sturdy trees was a hammock large enough to fit two grown men comfortably. The leaves of the trees were painted with the reds and yellows of fall, and as a gust of wind blew through the branches, some of the leaves loosened and flew across the field in a flurry of natural confetti.

Matthew didn't have much time to stare, though, because in a matter of seconds, Gilbert was dragging him over to the hammock. Matthew watched as Gilbert flopped onto it and patted the space next to him as an invitation to sit. So he did. And things were quiet.

Matthew was confused. Why were they out here again? Yes, everything was very pretty, but _why_? A breeze kicked up, and Matthew clutched his coat closer to himself. Mid-October was not a good time to go exploring at night. Didn't Gilbert know that? Matthew yawned. He wanted to go back home, crawl into a warm bed, and go to sleep.

"Gilbert?"

"Hmm?"

"Why the hell are we out here?"

"Um..." Gilbert had probably been expecting a different reaction. "Why we're out here...?"

"Yeah."

"Because it's peaceful?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow. That was out of character. "Because it's peaceful," he echoed, disbelief coloring his words. Gilbert shrugged.

"Yeah?"

"It's too cold for it to be peaceful, Gilbert." Matthew's statement was emphasized as another chilly breeze blew by, causing Matthew to shiver. "Couldn't we have done this during the spring or summer?" That was a prettier picture, Matthew thought. At least that way there would likely be fireflies, and there would still be leaves on the trees holding up the hammock. And for god's sake, it would be warmer!

Gilbert didn't answer, so Matthew stood up. "I'm going home," he said, heading back to the bank and jumping down. He heard Gilbert get up and start following him.

"Hey, wait!" Gilbert shouted after him. "So does that mean you'll do it this summer?"

Matthew just rolled his eyes and walked faster, chuckling when he heard Gilbert curse as he slipped and fell down the bank.

* * *

_A/N: Weak ending is weak. Meh._

_Short AN is short._

_Tautology__ is tautology._

_Comment or review or something._

_~Jel_


	16. Excuses

Matthew clicked the save button on the Word document and closed his laptop, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The time was four o'clock in the morning, probably the worst possible hour to be still awake on a school night. But at least he was finally finished with his English report. Matthew silently vowed to never procrastinate again, but he knew how that would go. _Besides,_ he thought as he sank under the covers to finally get his two hours of sleep. _I seem to work better under pressure anyways._ He would print it in the morning, and turn it in first period, and everything would go fine.

His eyes slipped shut, and he was out like a light

* * *

"Mattie."

"Hnmmm…"

"Matthew! Wake up! It's like six forty-five! First period starts in thirty minutes!" Alfred yelled into his little brother's ear. "You already missed the bus. If you get off your ass, I'll drive you to school."

At that, Matthew shot up, ramming heads with Alfred who had been leaning over the blond and cursing quietly.

"Oh, no! I have a paper due!" Matthew said, panicking. "I need to get dressed still and shower and—oh, I'm not gonna have time to print it!" he fretted. He grabbed his flash drive from his bedside table and shoved it into Alfred's hands. "Can you print that for me? I really need to get ready for school…"

Alfred smirked. "Sure thing, bro. Get dressed, and I'll take care of this for 'ya."

Unfortunately, Matthew didn't notice Alfred's smirk and ushered his big brother out of the room so he could change. Alfred grinned as he went to the desktop computer connected to the printer and plugged in the flash drive. He opened the document he was meant to print and read over its contents. It was a very good essay, he thought. Matthew would take about five minutes getting dressed, and ten minutes in the shower. Plenty of time. Alfred cracked his knuckles.

Matthew would have to stop waiting 'till the last minute to do things.

_Let's see what kind of excuse he comes up with to save his ass,_ Alfred thought, and began typing and reformatting.

* * *

_A/N: Alfred, you are such a butt. That's so mean._

_Same universe as Introduction, Unbreakable, and 33%. Prequel to 33%. And yes, I realize that Gilbert isn't actually in this chapter. I just wanted to clear up the story behind 33%._

_Comment or review or something. Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	17. Vengeance

It was very rare that Matthew got so angry that he wanted to punch somebody. He's normally a pretty mellow guy. He's a good student, quiet in class, doesn't cause trouble, and he doesn't exactly have anger management problems. But on this particular day, he was absolutely livid as he sat on his living room couch with Gilbert after school.

"Alfred just needs a good, solid fist in his face. You know what I mean?" Gilbert said. "There's a word for that in German, you know. Backpfeifengesicht." He nodded. "It's a good word."

"What does it mean?" Matthew asked. Gilbert grinned.

"'A face that is begging for a fist in it.' Perfect, right?" Matthew chuckled, and Gilbert continued. "German is such an awesome language!"

"Yeah, yeah," Matthew said. The sound of a lock being undone came from the front door. Matthew frowned. "Alfred's back."

"Do you want me to sock him in the mouth for ya?" Gilbert offered. Matthew shook his head no.

"I'm... just gonna try talking to him first." Gilbert rolled his eyes, but didn't push the matter as Alfred walked into the room with a Cheshire grin.

"Yo, Mattie!" he greeted cheerfully, then turned to Gilbert and nodded. "Gilbert."

"Hi, Alfred..." Matthew said. He was suddenly less confident than he had been a few moments ago... "Um, so... About something that happened today..."

"Yeah?"

"It's just... I got an English assignment back today, and..." He stuttered, not able to meet Alfred's knowing gaze. "Um..."

"Is that all?" Alfred interrupted. "You got a paper back?" Matthew jumped a little and just sighed, unable to finish.

"Yeah..."

Gilbert suddenly stood up and grabbed Alfred by the collar before pushing him onto the ground and starting a lecture.

"What the fuck, man?!" he shouted. Alfred just looked surprised.

"What? What'd I do?"

"You're stupid, Jones, but you're not _that_ stupid. You know exactly what you did! You fucked up Matthew's essay! You made him fail one of the biggest assignments of the semester! And for what?" He paused to take a breath. "Unlike you, Matthew actually cares about his grades. He works hard for them! Why did you do it?"

Alfred was quiet for a minute, and then he laughed. "Because I could! Mattie's fun to mess with!"

Matthew couldn't see Gilbert's face, because his back was turned, but at the same time, he didn't know if he wanted to. Alfred tried to get up, but before he could fully stand, Gilbert drew back his fist and delivered a solid blow to Alfred's face. There was a sick crunch, and Matthew secretly hoped it was Alfred's nose. Alfred sprawled back onto the floor, reaching up to touch his now bleeding nose.

"The fuck?"

Gilbert turned to Matthew and held out his hand. "Let's go see a movie or shit. I can't stand to look at your worthless brother anymore."

Matthew was caught between wanting to yell at Gilbert for hitting his brother, and kissing him for standing up to Alfred.

He chose the kissing option and followed his boyfriend out the door, leaving behind a semi-confused Alfred, and a lot of explaining to do when his parents got home.

Revenge, no matter how indirect, was bittersweet like that.

* * *

_A/N: What is this chapter aaaahhhhhhhh..._

_I like to think that even though Gilbert pretends not to care about his grades, they're actually very important to him, and Matthew's grades even more so. He cares about Matthew's grades because he wants Mattie to have a good shot at going to college and stuff, aw~_

_Sequel to last chapter._

_Please leave a review. Please. Per favore. Por favor. Bitte. Oh, and flames will be used to heat Russia's (my) house. Gettin' wintry all up in here._

_~Jel_


	18. Love

"Hey, Mattie," Gilbert said, reclining as much as he could on the cold metal of the subway bench. The time was eleven o'clock at night. They were returning from a zombie movie that Gilbert had wanted to see for the past few weeks. The train was nearly empty, with the only other passengers at this time of night being a hobo sleeping in the corner with a newspaper for a blanket. "Do you like me?"

Matthew, who was sitting next to his boyfriend on the nearly empty train, as well as holding his hand, wasn't fazed by the sudden question. After a few years of living with the man, one got used to his strange trains of thought. "Yes," he answered, not knowing why Gilbert would bring it up, but not questioning him either. "I like you, Gilbert."

Gilbert seemed satisfied with the answer and shifted around in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. After a few seconds, he gave up, and he didn't speak. Then:

"Do you really like me? Like, a lot?"

"Yes," Matthew said again patiently. Gilbert nodded and shifted around again.

"Would you say that you love me?"

Matthew hesitated. Why was Gilbert asking all of these questions? He knew the answers, didn't he? "Yes?" he said, lilting his voice a little at the end to convey his confusion. Gilbert shifted again. Why was he squirming around so much? The seat couldn't be _that_ uncomfortable, could it? Then again, Matthew observed, it started to look like Gilbert wasn't uncomfortable in that way. It looked like he was... nervous? Why would he be nervous? The hand holding his own was getting sweaty, and there was a blush working its way onto Gilbert's cheeks. "Gil, are you okay?"

Gilbert ignored Matthew's question and stumbled over his next words. "Would you say that you love me enough to… to…?" The hand that wasn't gripping Matthew's for dear life was reaching into his coat pocket. Matthew's breath caught in his throat when he realized what Gilbert was trying to ask.

"Gilbert, are you—?"

"Mattie, I love you," Gilbert interrupted. "I love you a lot; more than I've ever really loved anyone before." He took the thing he was reaching for from his pocket.

It was a little black box.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Oh, my God..." Matthew whispered. Tears pricked at his eyes, and his heart flew at a hundred miles a minute. Gilbert handed him the box, and Matthew took it with shaking hands. He opened it, revealing a simple, bright ribbon of silver, nestled and contrasting beautifully with the black silk of the inside of the box.

"Matthew Williams," Gilbert said. The tears spilled over. Matthew knew what the next words would be. He was already nodding and grinning like a maniac. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" Matthew said almost instantly, latching onto Gilbert in a hug so strong that the pair nearly fell over. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, _yes!_" He kissed Gilbert then and there, separating only to let Gilbert slip the band onto his ring finger.

The hobo in the corner suddenly let out a loud snore, but didn't wake up. The intercom came on, announcing the next stop. The train slowed down and came to a halt, the doors opening and letting on a few people. Their gazes immediately went to Matthew and Gilbert, the former crying and the latter holding him in a tight embrace. These new passengers would never know what had just transpired on this very subway car. Nobody said a thing. It was too late at night for words. For the remainder of the trip, Matthew sobbed happy tears into Gilbert's shoulder as the subway tumbled on and on through the tunnel, the dim lights flickering, and the hobo sleeping away.

* * *

_A/N: OhmygodthefluffI'mdrowninginitaaaahhhhhhhhhhs omebodyhelpmeIcan'tstop_

_So this was entirely too fluffy. I could not write this in public. I could not think of story devices for this in public. I could not plan this out in public. The sweetness is embarrassing. If I didn't love you guys so much, I would have never published this._

_Expect plenty of proposals in future chapters. I clearly need practice._

_Constructive criticism is welcome! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	19. Tears

The saltwater came up to his knees, warm and clear and blue. He took a step forward, and the water sloshed around his bare legs, lapping softly at his skin.

Matthew was standing in a pool of his own tears. He didn't know how he knew it. He just knew it.

Nine feet wide, and two feet deep, this water represented all of the tears Matthew had shed in his entire life. Granted, many of them probably came from when he was just a baby, when crying was a normal and natural thing, but he doubted that even all those tears could fill a pool this deep.

Very few people, he supposed, could cry this much, had something worth crying this much about.

He didn't want to stand in it anymore. It was starting to remind him of all the reasons he'd had for these tears. He stepped up and out of the pool, water dripping from his legs, and leaving the skin cold as it touched the outside air. He looked around, trying to find a way out. A door. A window. A hole, perhaps. But he saw nothing. Nothing that is, except for another pool filled with clear water.

It was exactly identical to Matthew's own pool as far as horizontal dimensions went, but in this pool, there was a man calmly treading water with his back turned to Matthew. It must have been incredibly deep.

The man turned around and locked eyes with Matthew. He had silvery hair, but his face showed no signs of old age. His eyes were a striking red, and they were looking curiously at Matthew.

Matthew stared for a while. Neither of them spoke, but they both seemed to be thinking the same thing.

_I wonder what his story is._

After a while, Matthew turned and left. He didn't know the way out, but he supposed it didn't matter.

The sound of water splashing quietly as the man struggled to stay afloat echoed in the back of his mind.

* * *

_A/N: I have nothing to say about this chapter._

_~Jel_


	20. My Inspiration

Being a journalist was really fucking hard, Gilbert decided. People liked his travel column in the newspaper because he was brutally honest. But did his readers realize just how much work he put into each article? No! He had to travel to the place he was writing about, for one, which wasn't that bad, except for the fact that for every nice place he went to, there seemed to be two third-world countries without clean water, beer, or internet.

Anyway, after that he had to figure out what the hell to write about. He had to keep it snappy, because he only got an eighth of a page to work with, for crying out loud! It meant cutting out a whole lot of the awesome (or shitty) experience, and that didn't exactly make him feel accomplished.

However, on one of his trips to Germany, he discovered something awesome:

Something to fucking _muse_ to.

In case you didn't already know, German music is fucking amazing. And not just the classics, like Beethoven, though he's awesome, too. No, Germany also has metal, and pop, and rock, and dubstep (but Gilbert didn't listen to that shit), and alternative, and screamo, and all kinds of other stuff. Listening to music mad Gilbert feel like getting shit done, and damn, did it work! If he had a column to write about the most boring place on the face of the planet, Gilbert bet all of the money in his brother's bank account that he could write about it and make that shit sound _interesting_ if he was listening to music.

It was his inspiration, and damn if he wasn't addicted to it.

* * *

_A/N: Jounalist!Prussia? I think yes. Maybe. I don't fucking know._

_No Canada in this chapter because I couldn't figure out a place to put him in. Oh well._

_Please be nice and leave a review! Flames will be used to heat Russia's house~!_

_~Jel_


	21. Never Again

"Gilbert, no. What did I tell you last time?"

"… Never again?"

"Exactly."

"But Mattie! I promise I'll finish this time! I always finish!"

"I know you do, but you take too long. I'll end up making you finish by yourself."

"I don't take too long! You just finish really fast is all!"

"Yeah, compared to you, because you finish so late!"

"Come on, just one last time! It'll be painless, I swear! I won't even do it in the dining room this time!"

"No!"

"Mattie…"

"No."

"Please…"

"… No."

"Pretty please…?"

"…" Matthew groaned. "Fine."

"Yes!"

Gilbert upturned the box and emptied the ten thousand-piece puzzle onto the dining room table.

"Gilbert! You said you wouldn't use the dining table this time!"

Gilbert smirked. "Yeah, I lied."

Matthew sighed. Here he goes again…

* * *

_A/N: So you guys remember chapter two? Yeah... This happened..._

_Innuendos FTW!_

_~Jel_


	22. Online

**You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!**

**You:** Hey

**Stranger:** Hallo.

**You:** ASL?

**Stranger:** 23, Male, Germany.

**Stranger:** u?

**You:** 21, Male, Canada

**Stranger:** Features you like about yourself?

**You:** Um... I dunno... blond. Athletic, I guess.

**You:** I play hockey.

**You:** What about you?

**Stranger:** Albino. White hair. Red Eyes. Awesomeness.

**You:** Dude

**Stranger:** What?

**You:** Seriously?

**You:** That's pretty cool

**Stranger:** I know. I get that alot. I would also say I'm pretty athletic myself, though I play Fußball

**You:** Fußball? What? *Looks up* oh

**You:** That's cool, too.

**Stranger:** Do you have any other hobbies?

**You:** Hm... I have to watch over my brother a lot to make sure he doesn't get in trouble, but I don't guess that counts.

**Stranger:** How old is your brother?

**You:** Same age as me. We're twins, but he's a few minutes older.

**You:** Do you have any siblings?

**Stranger:** Yes. A younger brother. He's 22.

**You:** Cool. Is he, um... Does he look like you?

**Stranger:** No. Not at All. He's Blonde, blue eyes and seriously built

**Stranger:** What about your brother? Identical or fraternal twins?

**You:** Some people say we look alike... But I don't think so. Different hair color, eye color, everything. People mistake me for him a lot, though...

**Stranger:** Oh Really?

**You:** Yeah. I'm used to it, though.

**Stranger:** Any more questions?

**You:** Um... not really...

**You:** Why?

**Stranger:** I kinda like talking to you...

**Stranger:** you seem cool

**Stranger:** as awesome as me maybe?

**You:** Haha, just from this conversation? You must be a good judge of character XD

**You:** I'm not that cool

**Stranger:** I like to think so. But anyone who will take care of their almost grown brother is cool in my book.

**You:** It takes work, if that's what you mean... he's kind of crazy... overprotective...

**Stranger:** Overprotective?

**You:** Yeah. I don't get a lot of dates, but when I do, he goes out of his way to ruin them for me.

**You:** Oh wait, that's not overprotective.

**You:** He's just an ass.

**Stranger:** Don't be like that. He might really be overprotective of his little brother.

**Stranger:** And maybe the girls just seem like tramps to him.

**You:** Lol, yeah.

**You:** Girls...

**You:** Uh...

**You:** INCONSPICUOUS TOPIC CHANGE

**You:** What's it like in Germany?

**Stranger:** Don't change the subject. What were you "uhh"ing about?

**You:** Nothing. I'm just really interesting in Germany, that's all. Sounds like a cool place...

**You:** *interested

**Stranger:** Stop it. Tell me. I'm curious now.

**You:** Ugh.

**You:** Fine...

**You:** Truth is, I don't play for your team. I like guys

**You:** Feel free to disconnect at any time

**Stranger:** What do you mean?

**You:** I mean, most people don't talk to me online after I tell them I'm gay or they figure it out.

**Stranger:** This might come as a shock, but I like guys as well.

**You:** ... Oh.

**You:** ... Okay...

**Stranger:** Don't tell me you're going to stop talking to me now

**Stranger:** ?

**You:** No! I just wasn't expecting that!

**Stranger:** Really? I've had the same experience online. I hate when that happens.

**You:** I know! It's like I'm not even like I'm flirting with the guys, and they just think it's too awkward to continue talking

**You:** You're nice, though. Thanks for not disconnecting

**Stranger:** Why would i disconnect? I have a chance now!

**You:** A... chance? At what?

**Stranger:** N-nevermind

**Stranger:** ...

**You:** No, what? Tell me?

**You:** Please?

**Stranger:** I think you're a good person.

**Stranger:** Can you send me a Pic of yourself?

**You:** Um... I guess... Hang on...

**Stranger:** Okay.

**You:** ((LINK))

**Stranger:** You ARE cute. I thought so.

**Stranger:** I wish we lived closer so i could talk to you IRL.

**You:** Yeah...

**You:** I DO visit France sometimes to see my Papa, but...

**Stranger:** You probably wouldn't want to meet me, though, huh?

**You:** No! That's not it! I just didn't know if you'd want to go to the trouble of going to France to meet me...

**Stranger:** one of my best friends lives in france. I visit Francis all the time!

**You:** Um... Francis?

**Stranger:** Yeah

**You:** What's his last name?

**Stranger:** Bonnefoy, but there's no way you know him. here's a pic

**Stranger:** ((LINK))

**You:** Oh my God...

**Stranger:** the guy with white hair is me of course, Francis is the blonde, and the other iss Antonio

**You:** That's my Papa...

**You:** No fucking way, how do you know him?

**Stranger:** We've been friends forever!

**Stranger:** Oh, he told me he had a kid but i didn't know your name

**You:** But... but you said you were 23! Papa is going on his sixties!

**Stranger:** I did?

**You:** Yeah, you kinda did. Were you a student of his? Papa used to be an elementary French teacher in Germany.

**Stranger:** Yeah, and me him and Antonio are good friends

**You:** Okay...

**You:** I can't believe he's never mentioned you to me, though... It would have been nice to have had a friend my age when I was little

**Stranger:** Yeah, but I think he didn't trust me with his "petite lapin" or whatever...wait, your name's Matthew isn't it?

**You:** Yeah.

**Stranger:** Oh Dear God. How he used to go on and on about his Precious twins Matthew and Alfred...

**You:** This... isn't happening, is it? Haha, it's incredible!

**You:** I'm visiting Papa in a few weeks! We can meet then!

**Stranger:** You do realize this means i've seen you and your brother naked in the tub right?

**Stranger:** And Awesome! I can't wait!

**You:** N-NO WAY! HE'S SHOWN YOU BABY PICTURES?!

**You:** I'm gonna kill him!

**Stranger:** yes

**Stranger:** You were sooooooo adorable!

**You:** Somebody kill me. Kill me now...

**Stranger:** Naw it's okay.

**Stranger:** Don't tell francis we met online though. He'll kill me.

**You:** Okay. Maybe we could "accidentally" show up at his house at the same time...

**Stranger:** Yeah, good idea! You are as smart as he says!

**Stranger:** You don't find it creepy that your dad hangs out with guys your age?

**You:** Eh, not really. I mean, sometimes he'll go on about students he's had in the past. Above all, he's a teacher. I think it's cool that he's kept in touch with his students all these years!

**Stranger:** Yeah, I've always thought so. hey what's your Mom's name? I might know her as well.

**You:** Um... I don't really have a mom... I mean, I do, but... I was raised by Papa. He and his husband divorced a long time ago. Papa doesn't like to talk about it unless he's insulting Arthur's cooking.

**Stranger:** Arthur? Kirkland?

**You:** Yes?

**You:** Don't tell me you know him, too?

**Stranger:** I remember him from a vague family outing. He and I might be related somehow...

**You:** Huh.

**You:** I don't know much about him. Papa got custody of me, and Arthur got Alfred.

**Stranger:** Oh...

**You:** Don't worry about it.

**Stranger:** No, that's not cool. You shouldn't have had to grow up separated like that.

**You:** What about you? Who raised you?

**Stranger:** … That's not the issue right now.

**You:** Okay, okay. Listen, I'm getting tired. I'll give you my email so we can keep in touch, okay?

**Stranger:** Okay :)

**You:** ((email address))

**You:** Don't laugh

**Stranger:** Maple-what? Lol

**You:** I told you not to laugh!

**Stranger:** Yeah, yeah. Mine's ((email address))

**You:** … And you're laughing at mine?

**Stranger:** Shut up.

**You:** Whatever XD

**You:** I'll see you in a few weeks, I guess :)

**Stranger:** Yeah.

**Stranger:** …

**You:** What?

**Stranger:** Ich liebe dich.

**You:** Wait, what does that mean?

**Your conversational partner has disconnected.**

Matthew stared at the computer screen, his insides doing somersaults as he opened a new tab in his browser and opened up a translating site. He copied and pasted Gilbert's last message, and smiled, just a little bit, as he read what it meant.

**From: German – Detected**

Ich liebe dich

**To: English**

_I love you_

* * *

_A/N: So this happened..._

_Up until "Don't worry about it" is an RP I had with someone on Omegle. The rest (which isn't much) I made up._

_~Jel_


	23. Failure

"_Gilbert."_

"_Yeah, Opa?" a sixteen-year-old boy responded to his grandfather who had raised him and his brother ever since his parents died while he was still very young._

"_Come in here. Now."_

_Gilbert put down the guitar he had been picking at and followed the sound of Opa's voice to the kitchen. "Yeah?" he repeated._

"_Do you know what this is?" Opa asked. He held out a sheet of paper for Gilbert to see. It was a chart of classes and grades. "Because I got it in the mail today."_

_Gilbert shrank back slightly. He knew where this was going. "It's... a report card?"_

"_What does this say, Gilbert?" he asked again, more irritated this time, pointing to a letter grade next to his math class._

"_It says I got a C in algebra two," Gilbert mumbled. Opa moved his finger down on the paper to chemistry._

"_And this?"_

"_A D…"_

_English._

"_C."_

_History._

"… _F."_

_Opa calmly put the paper down on the counter. He didn't yell. He didn't slap Gilbert across the cheek like he'd done countless other times. He just sighed a resigned sigh. He was simply far too used to Gilbert's failure by now. It didn't even come as a shock._

"_Gilbert, I don't think I need to say how disappointed I am in you," Opa said. "I've told you countless times that this is a crucial year in your education. Colleges start looking at your grades and your accomplishments, and unless you're not planning on going to college…" He looked pointedly at Gilbert, as if to tell him that he didn't exactly have a choice in that matter. "You'd better shape up."_

_Opa then went on into a rather long lecture, the same lecture that seemed to come with every report card. Gilbert had learned how to remain expressionless throughout these speeches, and did so now. Pretended it didn't affect him._

_But inside, it truly killed him. Killed him that he could never be good enough to make his grandfather proud. Killed him that no matter how hard he studied, no matter what he did, his grades never seemed to come up. Killed him that he would always be second-best to his perfect little brother dearest who did equally well in all his subjects._

_Gilbert blamed the shitty American educational system, but of course he could never say that out loud._

_Suddenly, the scene changed. He was eighteen, hair cut straight and close to his head, eyes trained forward on his mask of a face as the drill sergeant yelled at him in front of the other men because, once again, he had made a snarky comment about the living, breathing bullhorn behind his back. The man cursed at Private Beilschmidt, called him names, dared him to talk back. Gilbert remained silent, because he was terrified of what would happen should he speak his mind._

_He was in the military, after all. He was here because he couldn't get into college. Because he had _failed_ again. And now it seemed he couldn't even do his country the honor of getting something right._

_A year and a half passed in the blink of an eye, and Gilbert was a private first class, posted with the rest of his regiment in Iraq. He didn't know who to trust, where he was going, or even what the hell he was fighting for anymore. He just wanted to go home. He was sick of it – sick of being used and pushed around like a piece in a game, sick of never getting a decent night's sleep due to the fear of being jumped in the middle of the night by enemy forces, sick of being in a strange place he knew next to nothing about besides the fact that it was enemy territory – all of it._

_Sick and tired of being a failure._

_Now the bullets flew overhead, explosions rang in his ears, and the rapid thrum of constant gunfire pounded at his senses. A man fell next to him. Then another. Gilbert ducked as an opposing soldier's machine gun let loose a spray of bullets, knowing it would do no good. Something struck his left hand, but he didn't feel it. He was numb._

_The guns stopped for an instant, but Gilbert didn't dare waste the ceasefire on checking his injury. Instead he reached into his pack with his left hand and grasped for a grenade. Gripping the lever tightly, he tore the pin out with his teeth and threw the fucker at the enemy's lines. The sound of agonized screams came with the following explosion, and Gilbert fell back to find a medic._

_He would have never thought that his one success would be taking another man's life._

Gilbert woke up in a cold sweat, both his head and his heart pounding.

_Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream..._

But trying to move the fingers in his left hand brought him back to reality. He clenched his hand in a fist, feeling his whole thumb, index, and middle fingers curl into his palm. The remaining stubs of his ring and pinkie fingers bent as much as they could. A sick feeling planted itself in his gut.

He didn't want that damn medal. He didn't want to be rewarded for losing his fingers. It didn't make sense. In the end it was his own damn fault, anyway. If he could just get things right for fucking once...

The sound of a sleepy sigh reminded Gilbert that he wasn't alone. Matthew lay next to him, sleeping deeply and peacefully, unaware that Gilbert was awake.

And somehow, just watching his slumber calmed Gilbert down. Matthew mumbled Gilbert's name in his sleep, and that did it. Nothing mattered in that instant. Not the uniform gathering dust in his closet, not the Purple Heart tucked in a box somewhere, not the grades he'd made in junior year thrown away long ago.

Because all of those failures, all of those screw-ups, all of that pain added up to right now. And right now was lying in bed with the most perfect and beautiful person on the planet. They added up to their first meeting, to their first date, to their first kiss. To Gilbert explaining why he was missing two fingers on his left hand, and having a shoulder to cry into as memories flooded his mind. To loving touches, and clumsy first times, and a tearful and giddy proposal.

They added up to who he was. And somehow, he was okay with that.

He fumbled around for Matthew's hand and held onto it, slowly drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_A/N: Suggested listening: An Deiner Seite by Unheilig_

_~Jel_


	24. Rebirth

"I have gathered you three here today to discuss something really important to me," Prussia said to the countries sitting calmly in Germany's neat living room. Italy, Germany, and Canada all had varying levels of interest written on their faces. "It has to do with death."

Immediately, Germany tried to interrupt. "_Bruder,_ we've been over this. It's okay; we can't do anything about it–"

"No, West, it's _not_ okay," Prussia said, already a bit irritated. "And if we can't do anything about it, then why does it feel like someone already has?"

"_Bruder,_ I don't understand–"

"I can feel them," Prussia continued, covering his heart with his hand. "My people." He paused, thinking. "Actually, maybe not _my_ people, exactly. They feel different. But they're there."

Italy raised his hand as if he was in a classroom. "Hey, does that mean that Prussia is a country again?" he asked. Canada and Germany seemed to be thinking the exact same thing. Prussia grinned.

"Well, Ita-kins, that's just what the awesome me was wondering!" He became serious once again. "Am I a country? Are my people regrouping and rising up? Or…" He frowned. "Am I becoming something else entirely? Not Prussia, but a new country, different from who I was?"

"That shouldn't be possible," Germany said, trying to find logic in this situation. "You're… You're…"

"Dead," Prussia finished for him. "Yeah, I know. But this is something! It might not be much, but it's something!"

"How many people do you have?" Germany asked. Prussia shrugged.

"Dunno. Three. Four tops."

"Where are they?" Canada asked, speaking for the first time.

"Well…" Prussia hesitated. "See, that's where you come in. They're not in Germany, or any territories I used to have. They're not anywhere in Europe, really. But… But when I'm at your place, I feel closer to them, somehow."

Canada stared in shock. "At my…? What?" he managed to say. "You mean… your people… they're with me?"

"Yup."

"But… But that means…!"

"Yep."

"Germany, I don't think I can handle him living with me!" Canada cried. Germany patted the fretting country awkwardly on the back.

"Erm… It'll be fine, I'm sure. It shouldn't be that bad… um…"

"Canada," Canada reminded him. Germany cleared his throat.

"Right, well… If that's all you needed to talk about…" His eyes flickered to the door. Prussia got the message and stood up.

"All right! Glad I got this sorted out with you guys! C'mon, Canada, I'm bumming at your house," Prussia said as Canada got up to open the door. "You have good beer at your place, right Canada?"

Canada exchanged one last desperate look with Germany before he was dragged out of the house by Prussia. Once the two were gone, Italy made a concerned noise.

"Oh, Germany, do you think they'll be all right?"

Germany didn't answer him and went to get a beer from the kitchen. At least now he could finally use his basement again.

* * *

_A/N: So this happened._

_I am such a fail, starting out trying to write angst and then I'm like "Fuck it's getting funny. STOP BEING FUNNY I'M TRYING TO BE SERIOUS."_

_And then Prussia's all like "Lol, nope."_

_Dammit._

_~Jel_


	25. Breaking Away

So.

_Spooning._

Looks super adorable and comfortable, right?

_Wrong._ So, so, so wrong. You have been lied to, so get that ridiculous notion out of your head. I'm gonna go ahead and give you three good reasons as to why spooning is grossly overrated:

Hair, numb arms, and awkward boners.

Oh, yes.

Let's talk about hair first, since it's the most obvious problem. For one, it shouldn't even _be_ an issue for me because I have a _boyfriend._ Boy equals short hair, right? Nope. Not for Mattie. His hair goes all the way down to his chin, so it flies all in my face and tickles my nose and gets in my mouth and shit when I try to spoon him. I can't exactly ask him to get it cut, though, because it looks damn cute on him.

Problem number two: numb arms. Now you're probably thinking, "What the fuck do arms have to do with this, Gilbert? It's just a hug, but sideways, right?" To those of you asking this question, you've clearly never spooned anyone before, because it's not that fucking simple! Did you ever think of where the hell the arm that's not on top of your partner is supposed to go? Does it go A, awkwardly at your side, or B, underneath your partner? If you chose B to be romantic, then you'll see where I get the numb arms. Because even though Mattie's not a fatass like his brother (thank God), he's still pretty solid (the guy plays ice hockey for fuck's sake), therefore cutting off the circulation of blood to my arm.

_Not_ comfortable.

And now, for the reason you've all been waiting for: awkward boners. Oh, yeah, this happens. Often. Do you realize just how hard (and no I will not use a different term for that) it is to not get aroused when the very object of every sexual fantasy you've ever had is in constant, intimate contact?

No. No you _don't._

Add all of this together, plus the fact that you don't want to wake up your partner for fear that they'll sic their pet polar bear on you, and you've got a situation that's impossible to break away from.

* * *

_A/N: "This happens roughly every other day."_

_This could have been really creepy. Like, Prussia tying up and torturing Canada and daring him to break free kind of creepy. But this plot was calling to me._

_I don't have to raise the rating because I mentioned morning wood, do I? That would be awful._

_Anyway, I am officially **A QUARTER OF THE WAY DONE!** Only seventy-five (seventy-nine) more chapters! It feels like I've accomplished more when I look at what I've done rather than what I have left to do. Oh well._

_Enjoy~!_

_~Jel_


	26. Forever and a Day

It was another lazy day spent sitting under the First Oak, simply gazing at the clouds as they floated by. Matthew didn't know what day of the week it was – didn't _care_ to know what day of the week it was – as there were no days besides yesterday, today, and tomorrow in this world. Gilbert was there as well, of course, as the two were never apart. He was Matthew's best friend, his partner, his _lover_ as some might say.

In a sense, they were a god-like duo, having created this entire world, but they didn't see things like that. They were as much a part of this world as the First Oak, and the Light overhead, and the flowers, and other forms of life that resided here. They didn't rule, so much as they did moderate and care for, making sure it rained every so often so the plants could live, and creating new and interesting places to explore, and solving disputes between the few species of birds and mammals and fishes and reptiles that there were, and things were very peaceful. They were careful not to make any one species with the ability to rule over the rest; a grave mistake that they knew firsthand had happened on Earth. There would be no unnecessary destruction, no hatred, no wars. It was perfect, and they intended to keep it that way for a very long time.

On this particular day, as mentioned earlier, Matthew and Gilbert were spending time beneath the First Oak, a very special place to them. It was this oak tree that Matthew first made in this world. It had grown since then to a fantastic height and girth, the leaves always green and lush. Neither Matthew nor Gilbert knew exactly how much time had passed since that first creation, as they didn't concern themselves much with time anymore. It could have been anywhere from twenty years to two hundred years, and it still did not matter, because there was no _need_ to keep track of time.

Things such as titles didn't appeal to Matthew as they did to Gilbert, either. Gilbert had thrown around the idea that they were gods, _kings_ even, but Matthew wouldn't let him call him "Lord" or "Almighty" Matthew, even in jest. It seemed wrong when what they were doing wasn't ruling, but upkeep.

But we've gone off-topic again… Matthew and Gilbert sitting beneath the First Oak, with Matthew being just the slightest bit nervous is what you need to envision. The reason for Matthew's nervousness lies clenched in the palm of his hand in the form of something seemingly small and insignificant, but to Matthew, it meant almost the world to him. It was an exact replica of something he had lost in his past life, having dropped the original in his death.

Matthew took a deep breath, and nudged Gilbert's arm to get his attention. _Stop it,_ he told himself as Gilbert turned around. _This is such a stupid thing to get nervous over. As if he could say no._

"Gilbert," Matthew said. "I love you."

Gilbert smiled. "I know. I love you, too."

"I know this might seem a bit… redundant after all we've been through, but there's something I always wanted to give you while we were alive." He reached out to take Gilbert's hand. "I made it… and I hope that you'll accept it." Matthew deliberately placed the object he had been clenching into the palm of Gilbert's hand. Gilbert held it up to examine what he had been given.

"A… engagement ring?" Gilbert turned the thing over in his fingers, looking at it from every angle. It was a clean white gold, embedded with a small ruby the color of Gilbert's eyes. The words _"Forever and a day"_ were engraved in elegant, looping letters on the inside of the ring. "You _made_ this?"

Matthew nodded. "It took a few tries, but I finally got it perfect. I know that we can't exactly get _married_ here, but… Will you wear it? For me?"

Gilbert didn't speak, but instead answered by slipping the cool metal band onto his ring finger. It fit perfectly. "It feels strange," Gilbert remarked, turning his hand back and forth and wiggling his fingers to get used to the sensation of something being there. "It's so awesome, though… and it means a lot." He twisted the ring around his finger absently. "Thank you."

Matthew smiled wryly and leaned his back against the bark of the First Oak. "Do you, Gilbert Beilschmidt, take Matthew Williams to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Gilbert chuckled. "I do," he said, and continued the silly quote. "Do you, Matthew Williams, take Gilbert Beilschmidt to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," Matthew said. Gilbert grinned.

"Then I may now kiss the bride!" he said, cackling and leaning in to peck Matthew on the lips. Matthew squirmed away, falling into a fit of giggles.

"Excuse me? _Bride?_" Matthew said, pretending to be offended as Gilbert tried to kiss him once again, and this time Matthew let him, even going so far as to let him deepen the kiss. "I would be insulted, but I'm too busy being _married._"

Gilbert laughed again and took advantage of Matthew's moment of playfulness by pushing him to the ground, straddling his hips and looking down with a lusty grin.

"Then shall we begin our honeymoon?"

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I am leaving it there. Yes, I am trying to keep this fic rated T for as long as possible. The default filter settings are K+ to T, people! Gotta get readers somehow!_

_I hope you enjoyed the (possibly) final installment of the Eternity arc. Maybe I'll do a chapter where their world is destroyed... Wouldn't that be interesting?_

_Anyways, reviews are very much appreciated. Flames will be used to heat Russia's (and my) house. It's getting cold, dangit!_

_~Jel_


	27. Lost and Found

"Gimme a shot."

It was late in his shift when Matthew looked up to see the man who had just sat down at his bar. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, his shockingly white hair was tangled and mussed about, and his shirt was covered in what suspiciously looked like tear stains. Matthew got out a clean shot glass.

"What'll it be?" he asked.

"Anything," the man answered. Matthew plucked a bottle of Smirnoff from the shelf behind him and poured the drink, setting it in front of the man. He downed it in one go and slammed the empty glass on the bar. Matthew refilled it.

"Rough night?" Matthew asked as the man sipped at his second drink, taking his time and drawing out the vodka as long as he could.

"Proposed to my girl today," he said with a grimace. "She thought it would be a good idea to tell me she'd been cheating with a friend of mine ever since college." The man pushed his half-empty glass away and reached into his pocket. Matthew half-expected him to pull out his wallet, pay, and leave the deserted bar, but he had just gotten there, so he ruled out that possibility. No, instead the man placed a golden ring inlaid with a few small emeralds and a single sizable diamond on the bar. "Got a ring an' everything... And for what?" he mumbled, fidgeting and batting the ring around on the polished wooden bar.

Matthew hummed, somewhat trying to sympathize with the man, but found he couldn't. After working as a bartender for a good five years now, he was used to people going on about their problems. Rather than talk directly to him, though, most people would rather get completely smashed and then start spouting their stories to whoever was around. So much of this made one numb to the problems of others, as heartless as that sounds. He went back to what he'd been doing before, and the man continued playing around with the ring, taking a small sip of his vodka every once in a while.

"Her name was Elizaveta," the man said. Matthew looked up and realized that he was talking to him again. "We've been friends ever since we were kids." The man seemed to think for a moment. "Then again, I thought she was a boy for the first two years I knew her." The man laughed bitterly at whatever memory he was looking back on, and then he sighed. "Ah, but then she started growing up. She got... so... so..."

"Pretty?" Matthew supplied, actually paying attention. The man shook his head with a pained smile.

"_Beautiful,_" he said. "Asked her out in high school, and when she said yes, I felt like the luckiest kid on the face of the Earth." He stopped playing with the ring and put his head in his hands. "I thought it was love. I thought she was happy. Hell, I thought _I_ was happy! I was so _stupid._ We got into the same college and made friends with a fucking wussy piano major named Roderich. That's the guy she was cheating with. Before I knew it, I hardly saw her anymore. I kept giving her excuses, though. _She's been busy with classes_ or _Work's probably been really tough on her lately._ I kept telling myself that. I wanted more than anything to trust her, and I didn't want to be one of those suffocating, overly-possessive boyfriends that didn't let their girlfriends do anything. Still, we graduated and moved into an apartment together..."

The man kept talking, and Matthew found himself leaned against the bar, listening intently to his heartbroken lament. It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before, and yet the fact that the man was mostly sober and was still basically spilling his life story to Matthew, a complete stranger, came as a shock. Still, he listened as if he were hearing out a friend, all the way up until the disaster of a proposal.

"... I suspected Roderich from the start, but... God, I'm so stupid. I should have seen it," the man concluded.

Matthew didn't say anything. He wasn't exactly sure if this man was looking to him for advice or not. "You're not stupid," he finally settled upon saying trying to make the man feel at least a little bit better. "But I don't really know what else to say. I'm not good with relationships," he admitted. The man waved him off.

"I wasn't expecting advice. I just needed someone to listen," he said, seeming to smile sincerely for the first time since he'd entered the bar. He dug in his pocket again, this time withdrawing a wallet. He got up from his stool and put down a bill before turning around to leave. "Thanks," he said. "You can keep the change." And just like that, he left as unceremoniously as he had entered. Matthew picked up the money the man had left and nearly choked on his own spit.

Two glasses of vodka _definitely_ wasn't worth a Benjamin.

However, even more pressing than the hundred-dollar tab was the engagement ring lying on the bar, forgotten. Matthew scooped up the ring and hurried out into the early morning darkness, but the man's telltale white hair was nowhere to be seen under the glow of the streetlights. Matthew had never gotten his name, and since he had paid in cash, there was no way to trace who he was. Matthew stood at a loss on the empty sidewalk before slipping the ring into his pocket.

He guessed that the best course of action would be to hold onto it until the man came back.

_If_ he came back, that is.

Matthew walked back into the bar and made change for the hundred dollars, pocketing the generous tip before finishing the cleaning and closing up shop.

* * *

Two years, three months, and eight days passed (not that Matthew was counting), and every day without fail, Matthew carried the ring around with him. It dangled from a chain on his key-ring at all times, a constant reminder to be on the lookout for the white-haired man, but he was nowhere to be found. It was as if after he left the bar, he had headed straight out of the country. Matthew hoped and prayed it wasn't true, that he hadn't been carrying around an engagement ring belonging to someone in a different country. Someone who could care less if he sold the thing at a pawn shop for some always welcome extra cash. It would have been an enormous waste of time if that were the case.

Today, though, Matthew had an idea. It was such a simple idea that he slapped himself for not thinking of it earlier.

Why not just go around to the jewelry stores in town asking if they had sold a ring like this two years ago? If nobody had a ring like it in their records, then he would give up. But if they _did_, he could simply ask who had bought it, do some research, and hopefully find the man.

It sounded like an easy enough plan, and so today before his shift started, Matthew compiled a list of all of the jewelers in town and set out on his quest.

Three hours and eight stores later, Matthew finally found who he was looking for. Two years, three months, and twelve days ago, a certain Gilbert Beilschmidt had special ordered a ring which matched the description of the ring Matthew carried to a T. Matthew went home and Googled the name (not at all surprised when hardly any results came up), and put together all of the information he found on Gilbert. Quite proud of his tracking abilities, Matthew dialed Gilbert's cell phone and waited for him to pick up, figuring it would be a bit too creepy if he showed up at his address. As the phone rang, Matthew thought that in another life, he might have been a damn good stalker.*

"Hello?" A familiar voice picked up. Matthew was relieved that he seemed to have the right number.

"Uh, hi. Is this Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

"I dunno," the voice replied sarcastically. "You're the one calling."

Matthew rolled his eyes, taking that as a yes. "Right… well, about two years ago, you came into my bar…" he started, and paused, waiting for Gilbert to interrupt. When he didn't, Matthew continued. "You ordered some drinks, talked about your ex, and left a… um… generous tip."

Gilbert was quiet, as if he was taking the time to take in what was being said. "Oh…" he said finally, sounding amazed. "You… you actually remember that?"

Matthew nodded before remembering he was talking on the phone. "Yeah. I wanted to say thanks."

"Was that all you called for? How the hell did you get my number anyway?"

Matthew panicked and tried to explain himself. "Oh! No! Um, see, you forgot your ring when you left, and I wanted to return it to you, so I waited for you to come back to the bar to get it, but you never did, so today I asked the jeweler who you got the ring from who bought it, and she said you bought it, so I did some research and found your number and stuff and –"

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on a sec," Gilbert said. "Lemme get this straight; you kept that thing for _two years_, and you still haven't sold it? You haven't _lost_ it? Why?" he wondered.

Matthew bit his lip. Why _did_ he keep it? Surely two years was too long to wait to return a ring to a total stranger, right? So _why?_ "I… don't really know…" he confessed. "I just kind of thought it was the right thing to do, I guess..." Matthew glanced at his watch and realized that he would be late for work if he didn't get a move on. "Shit, I gotta go to work. My shift ends at four, so if you can, meet me then and I'll give you the ring."

"Um... okay," Gilbert said.

"All right. See you then," Matthew said before hanging up. He then rushed to get dressed, grabbed his keys with the ring, and left for work.

_Finally,_ he was ending this once and for all.

* * *

"Hey."

It was late in his shift when Matthew looked up to see the man who had just sat down at his bar. He looked pretty much the same as he did two years ago, save for the fact that his hair seemed to at least be combed, and he had on a clean shirt.

"Hello, Gilbert," Matthew said. He got out his keys and removed the ring from its home on the chain, holding it out so Gilbert could take it. Gilbert hesitated, though. "You still want it, right?"

"Yeah, I do..." Gilbert said and took the ring. "Thanks... um..." Gilbert laughed. "Wow, I don't even know your name!"

"Oh!" Matthew said, realizing he had never told Gilbert who he was. "I'm Matthew. Matthew Williams."

Gilbert grinned and grabbed Matthew's hand over the bar to shake it. "Well, Matthew, thanks for holding onto this thing for so long. It means a lot." He let go of Matthew's hand and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Eh... I feel like I should repay you or somethin'."

"Oh! That's not necessary, really!" Matthew said, thinking back to the man's gracious tip. "You've done a lot already!" But Gilbert wouldn't have any of that, and he shook his head.

"No, no, I'm gonna repay you somehow." Gilbert paused to think. "Tell me, Matthew; do you like coffee?"

"What?" Matthew said, surprised. Coffee? Somehow, he'd been expecting something more extravagant, but this sounded... reasonable. "Um... yeah?" Gilbert smiled.

"Awesome! Meet me at that little cafe on West King Street tomorrow at three. My treat."

Matthew could only nod as Gilbert waved goodbye over his shoulder. When he was gone, Matthew's mind was a flurry of thoughts as he wiped down the bar. Several questions ate at him, but one stood out among the rest:

Why the hell did it sound like he had just been invited on a date?

* * *

_A/N: Some notes:_

_*This may or may not be a reference to chapter six._

_So, this chapter ended up taking longer than I thought it would. Five pages typed. Wow. Sorry for the delay. This will probably have a sequel in the near future._

_Thank you for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoyed._

_~Jel_


	28. Light

Matthew was Light.

He was the sun's rays as they peeked over the horizon, the bright shine of a full moon in the night sky. He was the dim, flickering glow of a candle, the yellow blaze of a fire on a cold day. He was the twinkling multicolored bulbs on a tree at Christmastime, and the harsh glare of neon signs in a busy city.

He was the destination at the end of a tunnel, the reason for waking up in the morning, the guiding force through life. He gave people hope, made them see beauty, made things pure.

He was the exact opposite of Dark, but _that_ is a story for another time.


	29. Dark

Gilbert was Dark.

He was the deep midnight sky, the pitch black of outer space. He was the nooks and crannies where the sun never shined, and the dim mustiness of a child's closet where monsters lurked with sharp claws and fangs. He was the farthest recesses of a madman's mind, and Poe's favorite writing subject.

He stole away hopes and dreams, sowed the seeds of doubt, tainted all things pure and beautiful. He was the origin of confusion, sorrow, and hate. In fact, he was hated by nearly all those living on Earth, even though he could not help what he was.

He was the exact opposite of Light, but _that_ is a story for another time.

* * *

_A/N: The past two chapters are obviously connected. I will continue this arc in chapter 34._

_~Jel_


	30. Faith

Matthew Williams's day had been going spectacularly normally so far. He'd woken up on time, had a shower, got dressed, ate breakfast, and was currently walking out his front door, turning around to lock the door behind him. Before he could take his first step down the front stairs, however, something fell on him.

It wasn't a leaf. It wasn't rain. It wasn't bird shit. It was big, and heavy, and Matthew could have sworn he'd heard it yelling before it collided with his back, causing him to topple to the ground.

Someone moaned in pain. Seconds ticked by, and Matthew felt as something moved around and sat up on his back. There was the sound of someone dusting off their clothes.

"Huh. Thought I'd be falling for longer than that..." a voice said from on top of Matthew. Matthew groaned, notifying the person sitting on him that he was on the ground. Immediately, the person got up and apologized. "Oh, man, sorry!" it said. "I wasn't expecting to fall on anybody! What're the chances of that, though, huh? Awesome!" Matthew winced as the man (he had a man's voice, after all) roughly pulled him to his feet. He inspected his body for scrapes and sore spots (pleasantly surprised when he found none) before looking up at the man who had somehow fallen on top of him.

He didn't believe what he was seeing.

The man (who was rather attractive, by the way – a fact Matthew wasn't ashamed in the least to state) had startling red eyes, snowy white hair, and the fairest complexion Matthew had ever seen. He wore an odd half-smile on his face, and a white, loose-fitting tunic hung around the frame of his body. He was looking around, and the smile on his face fell, being replaced with a look of confusion.

"This doesn't look like Hell..." he said to himself. "Hey, you! Where am I?"

Matthew realized he was being spoken to, and tried to form a coherent response. "Um... Quebec City, Cana-"

Matthew broke off, at this point noticing the large, black, feathered wings that seemed to sprout from the man's back. A mix of awe, surprise, and horror shot through him, and, finding himself unable to remain standing, fell once again out of shock. The man simply looked down at him curiously.

"So... I'm not in Hell?"

"Wha... WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!" Matthew finally yelled, watching as the thing's wings actually seemed to move in accordance to its emotions. They shuffled awkwardly (if one could call that sort of motion awkward), and the thing offered a hand to help Matthew to his feet again, but Matthew refused. "Where did you fall from?" he asked, frantic. "Why do you have wings?"

The thing seemed to realize that this situation probably wasn't normal for Matthew, and tried to answer his questions as calmly as possible. "Okay, okay, chill out. You're getting way too freaked out by this, I swear..." it said, rolling its eyes. "My name is Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt. And I fell from somewhere up there..." Gilbert said vaguely, pointing to the sky. "You call it Heaven. I call it the most boring place ever. And to get things straight, I didn't_ fall_, per se. You gotta do something crazy bad to get kicked out. No, I just jumped. Figured it would be more exciting in Hell."

"Is that why you have wings?" Matthew asked in awe. "You're... an angel?"

Gilbert shrugged. "_Was_ an angel. Wonder what I am now since I didn't seem to make it all the way to Hell..." he thought out loud, looking back at his wings. A grin split his face. "Oh, fucking sweet! They turned black! That's so _awesome!_ Hey, what color are my eyes? Did they change color, too?" he asked Matthew excitedly.

"Well... They're red... and kind of scary..." Matthew said. "Your hair's white, too."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "My hair's _always _been white. But red eyes? That's cool. They used to be blue." He sat down, since Matthew didn't seem to want to stand up. "So what's your name? Gotta know the guy who broke my fall."

Matthew, still a little shaken, didn't answer immediately. He was suddenly worried about random passerby looking over and seeing a man with wings sitting on his front porch. He got up and turned to the door, not caring that Gilbert had only just sat down. "Um, we should... I don't want people to see..." He fumbled with the knob before remembering to unlock it first, motioning for Gilbert to stand up and go inside.

"But I just sat down!" Gilbert complained, flapping his wings and gracefully rising to his feet anyway. Matthew turned around and stared for a moment before ushering Gilbert through the door. "Seriously, what's your name?" he said, looking around Matthew's little home. "If it wasn't for you, I would be a demon right now."

Matthew continued to ignore him and pulled out his cell phone to text his boss. Might as well call in sick. There was no way he was going to work today with an angel... demon... thing in his house.

Growing impatient, Gilbert nudged Matthew's arm. "Tell me! Or else I'll find out on my own!"

"Oh," Matthew said, looking up from the text he had just gotten in response from his boss. He really had just been distracted. "I'm Matthew Williams. I guess... it's nice to meet you?" he said, holding out an unsteady hand in greeting. Gilbert enthusiastically shook it.

"Finally. Sorry for falling on you out there, Matthew, but now I'm interested," Gilbert said. "Normally when somebody falls, they go straight through the Earth layer and hit Hell. I should have been able to pass right through you, but for some odd reason, you actually stopped me. Care to explain?"

Suddenly scared, Matthew held his hands up in defense. "Hey, I don't know! I was just going to work! It's not like I did anything... and I'm only human, so..." He shrugged helplessly. Gilbert rolled his eyes again, something Matthew assumed he did a lot.

"I kind of figured, but still..." Gilbert seemed to study Matthew intently for a moment. "This could only mean one thing."

Matthew didn't know what the hell was going on, but he was pretty sure he didn't like the sound of that. "U-um, what, exactly does it mean? Because I don't know, and I'm not really sure if I want to know, but I think you're gonna tell me anyway..."

"It means," Gilbert said, ignoring Matthew's discomfort, "that there must be some sort of reason you stopped me, and I should probably stay with you until I figure out that reason."

Matthew turned almost as white as Gilbert's hair and tried not to fall again, but he still swayed a little where he stood. Gilbert lashed out to steady him, and Matthew shuddered as he felt the feathered wings touch him. _No no no no no no no no no this wasn't happening._ He was _not_ having a half-angel-half-demon-with-black-wings-and-an-attitude stay at his house.

And yet, the thought of what would happen should Matthew let Gilbert go out and wreak havoc on the rest of the neighborhood – no, the rest of the _city_ – was enough to convince Matthew that he really had no choice in this matter.

"So? Can I stay or not?"

"I... I guess you can..." Matthew said in a daze, not really thinking things through. The immortal didn't seem to care if Matthew was terrified or not, because he immediately set out to explore Matthew's house, picking up random items of interest as he went. Matthew followed him, trying to prevent Gilbert from breaking things, and failed miserably as a potted plant crashed to the floor. Matthew groaned.

What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

_A/N: Faith=angels, right? Right? Whatever. This AU might continue, but if it doesn't, don't complain._

_Love,_

_~Jel_


	31. Colours

A flash of glaring red as a bus honks its horn. Deep purples and blues flowing with the sound of trickling water, and the ocean waves as they hit the shore are a lovely muted blue and sea green. Cello music takes on a dark mahogany hue, while the violin is a soft, yellow ochre. My little brother's voice is an annoying orange, but I've gotten used to it after listening to it for so long. Other voices have colors, too, but when there are many people talking in a crowd, the colors mix up and become a muddled grey.

My name is Matthew Williams, and I have chromesthesia.

It's not the easiest thing in the world to explain without people instantly judging me as insane.

Chromesthesia is a version of a disorder called synesthesia, which is where your brain gets two or more senses mixed up. Some people feel scents, or taste colors. I see sound. Not all sounds, mind you, but most of them. My family noticed that I get a faraway look when I'm listening to music, but that's just because I'm watching the colors that appear in response to the sounds, and that's how I was diagnosed. My brother (as well as a lot of other people) compared it to a permanent acid trip. I guess he's right, in a way, but it's not so disorienting as it is just normal to me.

I try to avoid telling people that I have synesthesia, because people treat me differently when they find out. They won't make loud noises, and hardly speak to me because they think I'll get confused with the colors, but I really don't mind. I feel isolated and lonesome because people don't talk to me. It doesn't help that on the first day of high school, my brother let it slip to one of his friends about my "condition." Word quickly spread, and pretty soon I was a freak show, getting intrigued looks from afar, but nobody bold enough to speak to me. Even my brother got considerably quieter when I told him what color his voice was to me.

For the most part I was normal, and I wanted to be treated normally, but that seemed impossible.

Impossible, that is, until I met an exchange student from Germany in my junior year.

I met him on the third day of chemistry class. Our seats were assigned in alphabetical order, and with Williams being at the end of the alphabet, I was sitting alone at my own table in the back. A boy with white hair and pale skin walked in late, going up to the front of the class and handing the teacher a note. Mr. McKay introduced him to the class as Gilbert Weillschmidt* before ushering the new student to the seat across from me and continuing with his lesson.

I turned my attention back to my notes, not expecting Gilbert to acknowledge me, and for a while, he didn't. I jotted down some things about temperature and particles (which my teacher was insisting on calling bouncing balls for the time being), and tried to listen to Mr. McKay's droning brown voice. These were all things I already knew, simply from common sense, but I had to copy the notes into my notebook because we get graded on that, apparently.

A few minutes into the lecture, I noticed that Gilbert wasn't writing anything down. At least, nothing that had to do with the lesson. Instead he was doodling absently in the margins of his notebook, writing a rather lengthy paragraph in German. Not wanting him to get in trouble or fail the easy assignment, I ripped out a page of paper and wrote him a note.

_You really should be writing down the stuff on the board. We get graded on our note-taking._

I folded up the paper and flicked it across the table to Gilbert, who looked up in surprise when the note came flying and almost hit him in the face. He looked at me curiously before opening the note to read, and then _smiled._ He actually smiled, and instead of getting to work, he wrote something back.

_Aw, is the goody-goody worried about my grades? Chill out, I'm just writing a letter back home._

I suddenly felt a little guilty, but not that much. If he was just writing a letter home, he could do that at a different time. Despite his response, Gilbert actually flipped to a new page in his notebook and started copying the notes. But now I was curious. What had he been writing that was so important he had to write it in class?

_What were you writing about just now?_

I passed the note.

_Mostly how weird American classes are so far. Though my lab partner in chemistry is pretty cute._

I blushed, reading over the second sentence a few times to make sure my eyes weren't tricking me. I looked up at Gilbert to see him smirk and wink.

_I don't really know how to respond to that. Are you trying to hit on me?_

_Hit on you? What is this strange American terminology you are using? I will not hurt you, if that's what you're thinking._

I rolled my eyes, and Gilbert chuckled. It was an orange sort of laugh, but not nearly as annoying as my brother's voice. I decided I liked it.

_Cut the crap, I'm not buying it._

_All right, all right. Can't blame a guy for trying._

_You do realize I'm a guy, too, right? I get mistaken for a girl sometimes. You know, the hair._

I sent that note and waited for Gilbert to read it and look up at me. I motioned to my blond, wavy hair, which went down to my chin; pretty long for a guy. He started writing again.

_Yeah, I know._

_So you're gay? A little early to be coming out. How do you know I'm not straight?_

He got that note, smiling as he read.

_Bisexual, actually. And I don't care, figured I'd get it over with. I'm used to being ostracized. You know, the hair. And I could just kind of tell. There's a word for it... gaydar? That's what my brother's boyfriend called it._

As I read the note, the high school's quiet bell sang its lavender A. I groaned under my breath. I'd completely forgotten to take notes while talking to Gilbert. I gathered my stuff, trying to think of a way to get the notes I'd missed. Gilbert looked around in confusion at the other kids getting up.

"Was that the bell?" he asked. I paused, simply watching his voice dance in front of my eyes. I realized it was the first time I'd heard him speak. His voice was a strange mix of gold and red that somehow reminded me of Christmas. Even so, the German accent was hard to miss. "Pretty damn quiet for a bell."

"Yeah, that's it," I explained. "You go to your next class, now."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and gathered his things. "I know that much. The principal at least let me know about your weird class system. I still don't know what you gain from being forced to take all of these required classes if you're not going to do anything with them," he said. "Back in Germany, we pick what we wanna do at the end of primary school, and then we get classes based on that. I don't _want_ to be a chemist, so why am I taking chemistry?" he asked himself. I shrugged.

"America's just like that. Might as well get used to it."

Gilbert grumbled something in German that sounded suspiciously like cursing, but I didn't comment. "What class do you have next?" I asked. He pulled out a schedule from his pocket and gave it a look.

"Honors English with Mr. Adams," he said. "You?"

"Same." I couldn't help but wonder how he got into an honors English class, though. Maybe he had been speaking English for longer than I thought.

"Perfect, because I have no clue where it is. You're showing me around today, got it?" Gilbert commanded.

I complied, leading him to his next class, and the class after that, and the class after that. It was almost as if a teacher had placed Gilbert in all of my classes so that he would have someone to lead him around. I was just starting to consider asking someone in the office about that, but then the bell signaling school's end rang. I figured Gilbert could find his way to the bus lot by himself, but I walked with him anyway.

"So, my new American friend, you have yet to tell me your name!" Gilbert said as we arrived in the parking lot.

I jumped just a little bit, mentally going through all of the notes and conversations we'd had, realizing that I'd never actually introduced myself. "Oh. I'm Matthew Williams," I said, feeling a little bit embarrassed. Gilbert smirked.

"Well, it's good to finally know who the hell I was talking to all day!" He laughed and sort of awkwardly slapped me on the back. His English might have been good, but it was clear he wasn't used to the culture and social differences between Germany and America. I wanted to give him a chance, though, because I knew that almost everybody else in the school was rather racist and uncomfortable around people who were different. I thought that maybe, just maybe, Gilbert would be more of an outcast than me. I smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"It's okay." Gilbert looked up as a bus drove into the lot, the engine noises grey with sparks of red. Simply another sound I was used to. "_Scheiße_, that's my bus. See you tomorrow, Matthew!" he said, turning around and running to catch his ride.

"Bye, Gilbert," I said, though it came out quieter than I'd intended, and he probably didn't hear me. I sat down on the curb and tried to come to terms with the fact that Gilbert might have been the first person to call me a friend since I started high school.

It felt nice.

* * *

A few weeks passed, and things... changed. My feelings for Gilbert changed from platonic to romantic, and I didn't like it. I didn't like that even though Gilbert had called me cute, he probably didn't feel anything. I didn't like that even if he did feel the same way towards me, even if something started between us, Gilbert would have to move back to Germany at some point. I didn't want my first shot at love to be this hopeless.

Yes, secrecy would be best when it came to this relationship with Gilbert. The feelings would fade, and things would go back to normal, and Gilbert could go back to Germany without any emotional attachments. We could still keep in touch through email, I supposed...

Oh, but these plans never seem to work out for me...

"I have something in this bowl," said Mr. McKay from the back of the room, "that I just recently heated up. I want you to raise your hand when you smell it. Go."

Gilbert and I raised our hands. Being in the back, we were closest to the source. It was popcorn. It took each person longer to raise their hand the further away from the back they were. Eventually, everybody in the class had their hands raised.

"What's in the bowl?" Mr. McKay asked.

"Popcorn," the class chorused. Mr. McKay nodded.

"Good. Can anybody tell me why it took longer for the people in the front to smell the popcorn than the people in the back?"

A girl raised her hand. "Because the particles had to diffuse through the room and hit the chemical receptors in our noses before we could smell anything."

"Very good. The receptors in your nose pick up the chemicals of the scent and sent a signal to your brain, which it recognized as a smell." Mr. McKay smiled. "Does anybody know what it's called when your brain picks up this signal as something other than smell?"

Oh, no.

"Anybody?"

_No._

"Oh, Matthew, why don't you tell us?"

Fuck no. "Synesthesia."

"Very good! Will you explain to the rest of the class how synesthesia works?"

Shit, Gilbert was looking at me, now. "Two or more senses sort of get... mixed up, I guess… so some people hear tastes, or associate different colors with letters and numbers…"

"Yes, yes, and seeing sounds," Mr. McKay said, trying to sound dramatic, though everybody in the class already knew about my "disorder." Everybody, that is, except for Gilbert. "But I'd like for you to tell us what it's like, Matthew! For instance, what color is my voice? What color is the bell?"

I tried to fight down my embarrassment, but everybody was staring at me as if I had three heads. This was my least favorite question. People ask what color their voice is, and then they're disappointed when they're an unpleasant color. Mr. McKay was looking at me with that expectant smile of his, though. I couldn't exactly back out. "Your voice is brown," I said with as little emotion as I could. As I expected, Mr. McKay's smile fell. I tried not to roll my eyes. "And the bell is lavender."

Mr. McKay frowned, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation. "Okay, well that's enough of that," he said, walking to the front of the room. "Getting on with the lesson, today, as you might have guessed, we are talking about diffusion..."

I lowered my head to the desk, trying to blend in as much as possible. If there was a moment I ever wanted to be invisible, this was it. I covered my ears and closed my eyes, drowning out the brown lesson, the pink squeak of the marker against the whiteboard, the grey whispers of my classmates in the background, because for the first time in a while, it _bothered_ me.

Something landed in my hair. It felt like a note. I ignored it. Gilbert flicked me in the head. I sighed and looked up at an irritated Gilbert. He mimed opening the paper, to which I flipped him off and put my head down again. Gilbert wasn't having any of that, though, and continued flicking me in the head. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer, and just opened the note.

_What the hell? Why didn't you tell me you have... whatever it is you called it. I can't spell it. The point is, I thought we were friends. You could have told me._

I frowned, scrawling back a response.

_People treat me differently when I tell them. That's why nobody talks to me._

_And you thought I would treat you any different?_

_Well, yeah._

Gilbert smiled.

_No offense, Mattie, but that's the stupidest thing you've ever said._

What?

_What do you mean?_

_Well, I'm not treating you differently now, am I?_

When I read the message, Gilbert seemed to have an afterthought and stole the paper from me before I could write a response.

_I mean, if I am, I'm really sorry. I don't know how you expect people to react when they realize you can see sounds._

_I guess... I don't really want them to react. I don't want it to define who I am. I'm Matthew, and you're Gilbert, and this new knowledge shouldn't change how you see me._

_Okay._

I blinked as I read the note. Okay? That's it? No more arguing? No more questions? No jokes? Was I just normal to him?

I realized... that was all I really wanted.

_You have no clue how happy that makes me. Thank you SO much._

Gilbert got the paper and stared down at it, his brows furrowed in thought. He put his pen to the paper and wrote slowly and deliberately at first, sometimes pausing to scratch out a word. A full five minutes passed before I got the paper back.

_Good. That you're happy. Not that I don't know. And fuck this beating around the bush I really like you._

Next to the phrase _really like_ was a word that was scratched out several times, almost to the point where I couldn't make it out, but it was pretty obvious what Gilbert had meant.

_Love_.

Butterflies rocketed around in my stomach, my heart raced, my face heated up, and my hands shook as I read the last sentence over and over and over again. I took a minute to try and collect myself, but my heart refused to calm down. The strangest mixture of joy and dread filled me as I thought over what this meant. Mental lists never worked before, but these were desperate times.

One, Gilbert liked me back.

Two, Gilbert was really nice, and funny, and cool, and attractive, and—

Woah, Two, you can stop right there, thank you.

Three, Gilbert was from Germany

Four, because Gilbert was from Germany, he would have to go home eventually... I knew from my brother's experience that long-term relationships didn't go well, especially when you're an ocean apart.

Even as I thought this, though, I was already writing my response.

_I like you, too._

The smile that spread across Gilbert's face as he read my message told me that maybe this wouldn't be such a bad idea after all…

* * *

_A/N: Some notes:_

_*I realize that Prussia's canon last name is Beilschmidt, and I normally use that name. However, I've seen people use Weillschmidt, and since it fit with the rest of the story, I decided to just roll with it. This might happen from time to time, but I hope not._

_This took far longer than it really should have. I'm sorry *bows* It's because I tried to use first person POV for once (stupidstupidstupidme), which I'm not used to at all. I find it difficult to write in first person because I can't get into the character's head. I know I should be able to, but my own personality just kind of leaks out into the words, and that's NOT supposed to happen! Ugh... I much prefer third person omniscient or limited omniscient. _

_Anyway, despite my burning hatred towards first person, I'll probably be making a sequel to this. I don't know how soon or how late in the challenge it will be, but it'll probably happen._

_Sorry for the long note. Had a lot to say._

_Please leave some criticism. I don't care if you tell me my writing sucks, just give me a reason and a way to improve~!_

_~Jel_


	32. Exploration

No matter how long he's been living there, Prussia never gets tired of exploring Canada's backyard. It's just so _huge!_ Sure, a lot of it is icy tundra (which brings back some rather unpleasant memories from his time spent with a certain Slavic nation), but there's lots of cool stuff, too. There're forests, and waterfalls, and rivers, and mountains, and plains, and the people there are really nice, for the most part.

Sometimes, during autumn, Canada will insist that they go on a hike or something to see the leaves. Prussia will refuse a few times, because leaf-watching is "not awesome at all," but they both know that Prussia actually enjoys it.

* * *

_A/N: You have no earthly idea how close this came to being sexual. Instead it sounds more like a headcanon. *shrugs* Oh well._

_~Jel_


	33. Seeing Red

Spirit Week wasn't one of Matthew's favorite weeks at school. Sure, it was funny to see everybody dressed up in silly outfits, and normally his brother would convince him to coordinate outfits for twin day every year, but other than that, he just wasn't that into it.

Gilbert, on the other hand, was all about Spirit week. For twin day on Monday, he went so far as to slick his hair back like his brother's and get them matching clothes. Tuesday was 80's workout day, and he wore the most outrageous neon colors, with tight black leggings (hot _damn_), pink short shorts, and a bright green tee-shirt with the sleeves cut off and some obscure 80's band on it. (Where did he get this stuff?) Wednesday's superhero day was skipped because the school had to be shut down due to a water main break. It was too bad, too, because Gilbert was really looking forward to that day in particular, and Matthew kind of wanted to see what he would wear, though he wouldn't admit it. Thursday went according to plan, as it was pink day. Gilbert went all out, donning the pink short shorts from Tuesday and a pink baking apron over his black tee-shirt that said "Kiss the cook" on the front, which Gilbert claimed actually belonged to his brother. He even got some pink hairspray that showed up really well on his white hair.

Now it was Friday, which was class day. Every class got a different theme. Freshmen got duct tape, sophomores got to wear pajamas, juniors wore black, and seniors wore togas.

Needless to say, Matthew wasn't planning on participating in the senior theme. However, Gilbert had a habit of getting Matthew to do things he wasn't planning on.

Not even five steps into the language arts building, Matthew was grabbed and dragged into the nearest men's restroom, struggling the whole way. Finally managing to break free after being taken into the large handicap stall, he saw that his kidnapper was none other than Gilbert.

"Gil!" Matthew said, slapping his boyfriend's arm. "That scared the shit outta me!"

Today, Gilbert wore a toga made of blue bed sheets with a yellow chick pattern. The fabric draped haphazardly over his shoulder, looking like it could slip off at any moment. In spite of the principal's multiple warnings, the toga didn't cover both his shoulders, and only hid half of his chest.

"Doesn't matter! Put this on!" Gilbert said, shoving a wad of fabric from his backpack into Matthew's arms. Matthew could guess what it was, but...

"Um... How?"

"Well first you gotta strip, obviously," Gilbert said.

"What?!"

Gilbert was way ahead of Matthew, though, already grabbing at Matthew's shirt and pulling it over his head before working at the button on his pants. It wasn't until Matthew's pants were around his ankles that he realized that Gilbert was _stripping him in a bathroom stall._ He tried to cover himself up with the white bed sheet that would become the toga, but Gilbert wasn't having any of that as he made Matthew step out of his pants.

"Okay, put your arms up and hold still," Gilbert said, wrapping the bed sheet around Matthew's torso and tying the corners at one of his shoulders. He took a safety pin from his pocket and fastened it at the knot to make sure it wouldn't come undone. He stepped back to appreciate his work.

"Not bad," Gilbert said. "But there's something missing…" He dug around in his backpack until he found a long strip of thick red fabric, tying the ends together so that it made a loop, and slipped that over Matthew's head like a Boy Scout sash. "There you go. Now you look like a real Roman man! How do you feel?"

_Stupid._ That's what Matthew wanted to say, but Gilbert just looked so excited…

"Um… it's… freeing, I guess…" Matthew admitted. There was definitely a breeze blowing where it didn't normally…

Gilbert grinned and nodded. "I know, right? Togas are awesome! Wouldn't it be great if we could wear these things every day?"

Matthew didn't answer, picking up his clothes from around the stall and shoving them into his backpack, taking a glance at his watch at the same time.

"We're gonna be late for class," Matthew noted calmly. Gilbert shrugged.

"I guess we'd better hurry, then!"

The pair walked out of the bathroom in their togas, one feeling awesome, and the other feeling out of place. But then the awesome one held the out-of-place one's hand, and he felt a little more confident as he walked into the English classroom.

* * *

_A/N: So this is the same AU as the first chapter. I'm just gonna start calling this universe Intro!AU, okay? It's easier than listing all of the chapters I've done so far in this AU._

_Yes, the apron actually is Ludwig's. I love the fact that Luddy likes to bake cakes~_

_Leave questions, comments, and criticism in a review!_

_~Jel_


	34. Shades of Grey

Matthew is Light, and Gilbert is Dark. It's always been that way. One is loved and coveted, the other shunned and despised.

_This_ is the story for another time.

Many mortals believe that Light and Dark are sworn enemies, constantly in an evenly matched battle for power. Out of these people, a vast majority think that the world would be a better place if Light won the ongoing war.

These people are wrong on both accounts.

Matthew does not hate Gilbert, just as Gilbert does not hate Matthew. In fact, one might even call the two friends. Their existences are so intimately entwined that sometimes it is hard to tell the two apart, and yet they still remain separate entities.

As for the world being better off without Dark, let's put it this way: what do you think the world bases "goodness" off of? It's not something that can be defined, I'll give you that much. Without Dark to be compared to Light and vice versa, how can we truly know which is which? How can we sort through the shades of grey that mingle between the two? If, in this metaphor, Light is the absence of Dark and Dark the absence of Light, how can one possibly go on without the other?

The answer is we can't. We can't, they can't, and they don't _want_ to.

* * *

_A/N: Continuation of Light and Dark. Philosophical chapter is philosophical._

_The chapter title made you think this was going to be porn. Admit it. You were thinking it. I've never even read that book, man._

_I can't guarantee when the next chapter will be out. I'm still writing it. All I can say is that it's pretty long. It could be up as soon as tonight or as late as next week, so please be patient with me._

_Leave questions, comments, and criticism in a review~!_

_~Jel_


	35. Forgotten

Quite some time ago, in a park somewhere, a little boy named Matthew sat on a swing. He is seven years old, with curly blond hair, and dark blue eyes. He is a very charming child, who always says please and thank you, and knows his table manners, and is very proud of the fact that he knows how to spell "Mississippi" correctly, because not even his brother can do that.

Despite this, he is very quiet, and doesn't have a very strong presence. It's because of this that he's often overlooked. He doesn't have many friends, but he does have an imaginary friend named Kuma. Kuma was with him now, actually, sitting on the swing next to him. Matthew and Kuma were having a heated discussion about which topping was best on pancakes, when another little boy walked up to the swings.

This boy's name was Gilbert, but Matthew didn't know it at the time. He was an albino, with white hair, red eyes, and pale skin that burned easily. At such a young age, and having a kind and caring disposition, Matthew didn't know to judge Gilbert for his coloring.

"Who are you talking to?" Gilbert asked. Matthew turned from Kuma in surprise. It wasn't often that other kids talked to him, and he didn't know how to react, so he simply told the truth.

"My imaginary friend," he said matter-of-factly. "He's a polar bear, and his name's Kuma, and if you hold out your hand he'll sniff it."

Gilbert's eyes widened in amazement. "Wow!" He held out his hand to the swing where Kuma was sitting. "Is he sniffing me? Is he?"

Matthew nodded. "Yup. He likes you!" he said. "He says he likes your hair, too."

Matthew couldn't possibly understand how happy those simple words made Gilbert, because Matthew didn't know that Gilbert was an outcast, too. Gilbert's hair made him the subject of teasing and bullying, but here was a boy (well, bear, but Gilbert was clever enough to know that if Kuma liked his hair, then so must Matthew, because people and their imaginary friends tend to think alike, you know) who liked it! Gilbert smiled.

"I know, right? I was born with it like that!" Gilbert said, for once very proud of his most noticeable feature.

"That's so cool!" Matthew said. "Can I touch it?" he asked.

"Sure," Gilbert said, and bowed his head forward so that Matthew could feel a piece of his thin hair. "Hey, do you want to come play at the creek over there with me? I saw a bunch of tadpoles under the rocks and stuff."

Matthew almost agreed, but then he remembered why he was on the swings in the first place, and shook his head no. "Can't. My parents told me to wait here until they get back. They went to take my little brother to go pee."

"Oh," Gilbert said. He was a little disappointed. "That's okay. I'll just stay here, then. Can you ask Kuma to move so I can sit with you?"

"Okay," Matthew said, and turned to his imaginary friend. "Kuma, please move." Kuma got up and toddled away. "He got up, so you can use the swing now."

Gilbert sat on the swing so that his legs straddled the seat and he was facing Matthew. Matthew copied him, and the two looked like they were riding horses instead of swinging on the swings.

"So what's your name?" Gilbert asked, kicking at the woodchips on the ground.

"Matthew," Matthew answered. "What about you?"

"Gilbert," Gilbert said. "What were you talking to Kuma about?" Matthew pouted.

"We were having a fight," he said. "Kuma thinks that peanut butter tastes good on pancakes, but _I_ think maple syrup is a bajillion times better. What do you think?"

Gilbert hummed, seriously thinking over the question. On one hand, maple syrup _was_ amazing on pancakes. On the other hand, Gilbert had never tried peanut butter on pancakes, and his grandpa always said to try something before saying it was gross. After much contemplation, he came upon an answer.

"Why don't you try them both together?" Gilbert said, because if they were good separately, then they should be even better together, right?

Matthew thought about it. "It might work. I'll try it one day."

The pair continued to talk about all of the trivial things that seven-year-olds found interesting, like favorite colors, and pets, and family, and all the best sports, and how icky girls were. The sun started to set, and Gilbert's grandpa came over.

Gilbert's grandpa was named Adair.* He was a rather strict and severe man, with long blond hair that was going grey in some places, and piercing blue eyes. He wore a stern expression almost all the time, but he really did love his grandsons, whom he had been taking care of ever since his daughter and her husband died in a car accident. He was carrying his youngest grandson in his arms, whose name was Ludwig. Ludwig had blond hair and blue eyes, much like his grandfather, and was dozing, because he was only two, after all, and it was his naptime.

"Gilbert, it's time to go home," Adair said.

"_Opa_, I made a new friend!" Gilbert said, jumping off of the swing and grabbing Matthew by the hand so he could introduce him to his grandpa. "This is Matthew! He likes polar bears, and hockey, and he said he likes my hair! Right, Mattie?"

Matthew nodded and gave a nervous little wave, intimidated by Adair's stony expression. "H-hello, sir," he said, curling his fingers around Gilbert's hand.

Adair, though he didn't show it, was glad that his grandson had finally found a friend who wouldn't make fun of him because of his albinism. He nodded stiffly. "Hello, there, Matthew."

Unfazed by his grandpa's seemingly unenthusiastic greeting, Gilbert bounced around and tugged on the man's pant leg.

"Can I give him our address? Please? I want him to come over and play since we didn't get to today!"

Adair raised an eyebrow. "You were just talking this entire time?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Yeah. Mattie had to stay put because his parents haven't come back yet."

"They went to take my little brother to the bathroom," Matthew chimed in.

Something about that made alarms go off in Adair's head. He knelt down so that he was at eye level with Matthew. "Matthew, when did your parents say they would be coming back?" he asked.

"In a few minutes."

"And how long have they been gone?"

"Um…" Matthew looked down at the ground and gripped Gilbert's hand more tightly. "I dunno…"

"What do your parents look like?" Gilbert asked. "We'll help you find them!"

Matthew described his parents as best he could, and the group wandered around the park in search of the adults. Matthew's hope was quickly dwindling, though, as evening approached, and the park became deserted. The realization that he had been forgotten sank in, and Matthew started to cry. Gilbert tried to make his new friend stop crying, but nothing he did worked. Gilbert looked up to his grandpa for help. He wanted to make his friend feel better!

Adair, deeply concerned for the forgotten boy, instructed Gilbert and Matthew to go back to the swings and wait while he made a call. Adair had never been so grateful that he had decided to buy a cell phone in case of emergencies than at that very moment as he dialed 911.

The next few hours were spent discovering some hard facts that nobody wanted to tell Matthew. How do you tell a seven-year-old that his parents didn't forget him, but abandoned him? How can you tell him that his family only answered the phone once, and, upon learning it was the police, hung up and never picked up again? How can you tell him that nobody knew where his parents were, or if they were ever coming back?

Matthew was crying, crying so hard that he felt like he was going to make himself sick. He was scared and hurt and hysterical, and he refused to let go of Gilbert's hand. Not that Gilbert would have let go, either. They made a pact that night, a solemn pinky promise to never ever ever not be friends.

They would be together forever, because Matthew had nobody left to love him, and Gilbert selfishly didn't _want_ anybody else to.

* * *

_A/N: Some notes:_

_*Adair, obviously, is my name for Germania._

___ I thought I'd try out a different style with this chapter. I don't know what it would be called, but it's... something. Whatever it is, it took far too long to write, and I apologize. *bows*_

___I really want this universe to continue. I have the chapter thought out, but it's just a matter of when a matching theme will come up..._

___Leave questions, comments, and criticism in a review!_

___~Jel_


	36. Dreamer

"_Gilbert."_

Soft voice. Kind voice. _His _voice.

"_Gilbert."_

Come here. Closer. _I want to touch you._

"_Hmm..."_

Sighs. A quick brush of lips. Where am I...?

"_Gilbert."_

It's all so surreal. Smooth skin beneath fingertips. Soft hair tickling my neck.

"_I love you."_

He blushes, and smiles, and god, he's so beautiful. My heart beats faster, something is building.

"_I love you."_

_I love you, too._

I open my eyes.

_It was a dream._

Fuck.

I look down, finding a problem, and curse, because it's _all his fault!_

Matthew...

I sighed and closed my eyes again. Scenes from the dream flashed behind my eyelids, and I blushed.

I'm used to having these sorts of dreams. I'm a 17-year-old male, for fuck's sake, what do you expect? I've even dreamed about some of my closest friends before, and it doesn't bother me in the slightest. _Shouldn't_ bother me, because dreams (at least during REM sleep) are simply the brain's way of testing out real life situations. You have a dream about dressing up in a banana costume and dancing in Times Square, and it probably means nothing, because your brain is seeing if it's a normal or advisable thing to do. You'll probably never have that dream again in your life, because your brain doesn't advise you to do the thing in the dream. And yet...

My dreams had been full of nobody else but Matthew for the past six weeks.

I didn't want to think about what that could mean.

* * *

_A/N: I **hate** this chapter._

_Please don't kill me._

_~Jel_


	37. Mist

Gilbert Beilschmidt had both hands on the steering wheel for once, driving glasses on, and eyes intent on the fog-shrouded road ahead of him. The headlights on his car were on low beam to prevent glare, which would make visibility even worse. He drove slowly and deliberately, even though there was (thankfully) no traffic to crash into as he made his way up the winding road that led to his house.

Through the mist, he saw the figure of a man on the side of the road giving a hitchhiker thumb. Gilbert pulled over and unlocked the passenger side door, rolling down the window so he could talk to the guy.

"Need a ride?" he asked. The man walked closer, revealing his appearance.

He had blond, scraggly hair that went down to his chin, and dark blue, tired eyes hidden behind a pair of old wire-rimmed glasses. His clothes were patched and threadbare in places; his boots, covered in enough paint and stains to keep the original color hidden. He carried a few plastic grocery bags full of canned food and hygiene necessities. He even sported a bit of stubble, making his face look more rugged than it really was. He smiled, nodded, and opened the car door, putting the bags on the floor before getting in himself. He closed the door, but didn't put on his seatbelt, and soon Gilbert was back to driving.

"Thanks for the ride, Gil," the man said. "I really wasn't in the mood to walk up that hill again."

"Any time, Matt."

"Matt" lived alone in a small one-story house just outside Gilbert's neighborhood. He made a living doing odd jobs around the town, like painting, and mowing lawns, and fixing cars. He didn't have a car of his own, though, so he walked (or hitchhiked) pretty much everywhere, and Gilbert had no problem giving him rides up and down the hill. In fact, he did it so often that his car had begun to smell like Matt, which was an odd combination of fumes and wood smoke.

"Hear about the snow storm coming up?" Gilbert asked. "Supposed to be legendary or something."

"Yeah, folks are talkin' about it in town. Went down to stock up," Matt said, motioning to the bags at his feet. "Good for snow-shoveling, though. I'll make a little cash from Mrs. Braginskaya down the street when it snows." He pushed his glasses up and sniffed a little, but not in a snooty way. More of a literal snotty way. His nose sounded stuffed up.

"And you'll get through winter okay?" Gilbert knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

"Of course," Matt said, sounding a little indignant. "I've been up here longer than you have. I've even got a decent coat this year. Insulated with goose down or something."

Gilbert just smiled and nodded. "Right, right. Just making sure." Matt sniffled again, and then coughed. Gilbert had to hold back a sigh. The man was too stubborn for his own good. "Just remember that if you ever need anything, a place to stay…"

"I got it, eh?" Matt said, rolling his eyes. "You're wasting time being concerned for a stranger."

"Matt, you know I don't consider you a stranger," Gilbert said, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "I know you don't like getting close to people, but you need to recognize when somebody cares for your wellbeing. The point is, if you ever want to be somewhere that isn't your place, you know where I live. Door's always open."

Matt was quiet for a while. Gilbert knew he was getting the silent treatment. Again. Honestly, Gilbert thought they argued like an old married couple, but Matt always came around.

The car rolled to a stop in front of Matt's gravel driveway. Matt gathered his stuff and prepared to get out, but he didn't quite yet. "Uh… Thanks. I guess…" he said. "For the ride, I mean. And for worrying." He opened the door. "But I really don't need it."

Gilbert shrugged. "The offer's there." Matt nodded and got out of the car.

"Bye."

"Bye."

And then he shut the door. Gilbert touched on the gas and drove away, keeping an eye on Matt in the rear-view mirror until he faded into the mist.

* * *

_A/N: Last week my dad was driving me home from school. We turned from the highway onto the hill up to our house. I saw a man who looked like he was homeless sitting on a block of cement with a bag of groceries and holding up his thumb to get a ride. My dad noticed him, too, and pulled over to let him get in the back seat of the car. At first I was surprised that my dad would give a ride to a complete stranger, but then the two started talking like they knew each other. The man asked about how work was going for my dad, and my dad asked how life in general was going for the man. They chatted for a little while while my dad drove up to the man's house, which was right outside of our neighborhood. My dad pulled over, and the man got out, but they kept talking through the open window. Eventually the man said he had to go, and left._

_The man's name was Mike. My dad gives Mike rides up and down the hill to our neighborhood because it's a really long walk._

_That's all I have to say._

_~Jel_


	38. Burning

"Gilbert…" Matthew sighed as he walked in on the scene before him. "What have I told you about lighting things on fire without supervision?"

"That it's totally awesome and I should do it more often?" Gilbert suggested as he stuck a wood pencil into the flame of a candle, effectively setting it on fire and watching as the paint turned black and peeled away. "Because it's true."

"You're gonna burn the house down if you keep that up," Matthew warned.

"Nu-uh," Gilbert replied maturely. "I've taken safety precautions. See?" He pointed at a glass of cola with the burning end of his pencil. "If anything gets out of hand, I can just put it out with that." Distracted with talking to Matthew, Gilbert didn't notice as the flame on the pencil reached his fingers and scalded him. "OW! _Scheiße!_" he yelped, dropping the now-extinguished pencil on the table and putting his burned fingers in his mouth.

"See?"

"Oh, come on, Mattie," Gilbert mumbled around his fingers. "You used to be a pyro, too."

"Yeah, before I almost set my brother's carpet on fire," Matthew said, remembering the time he almost didn't put that match out quick enough. Al's face had been priceless, though.*

"You just weren't being careful! It's fun if you know what you're doing!"

"For the last time, Gil, no," Matthew said. "I'm putting my foot down. If I catch you setting fire to anything besides a candle again, so help me, I will gather all of the lighters, matches, and other things that could possibly be used to make fires and hide them. Got it?"

"Yessir," Gilbert said with a frown and a lazy two-fingered salute. Matthew rolled his eyes and left the room. Gilbert's gaze went back to the candle, which was still burning. He picked up a scrap of paper and put it to the flame, watching transfixed as it burned, and smiled.

Matthew _had_ said if he got caught.

He'd just have to try extra hard not to get caught.

* * *

_A/N: *This may or may not be a reference to the War of 1812._

_I wrote a lot yesterday. Shit gets done when you're snowed in. That's right. SNOW. In October (almost November). I don't have school today, either. It might even be closed tomorrow. I'm definitely not complaining :)  
_

_Happy Halloween!_

_~Jel_


	39. Out of Time

"_Planet Earth is being recycled. Please evacuate immediately._"

"Gilbert!" a young man screamed over the robotic voice overhead and the chaos surrounding him. "Gilbert, please, where are you?"

"Matthew!" Somebody grabbed him from behind and spun him around, wrapping him in a tight embrace. "Matthew, I'm here."

"Gilbert, we have to go!" Matthew cried. The ground shook. Fissures opened, swallowing cars and buildings and people. Fires broke out. They were in a street, surrounded by a mob of panicking people as the city was destroyed. "We have to escape! I don't want to die!"

"But where do we escape to?" Gilbert asked calmly. "It's too late."

"Gilbert, what are you saying?" He was crying, tears streaming from his eyes. He didn't want to give up. There had to be a way out. "It's not too late! We just have to—!"

"_Planet Earth is being recycled. Please evacuate immediately._"

It suddenly dawned on Matthew. It wasn't just the city that was going down. This was happening all over the world.

Matthew collapsed to his knees. Gilbert went down with him.

"We can't escape."

"_Ja._"

"We're going to die."

"Everyone dies eventually."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Matthew asked in hysterics.

"I'm not calm," Gilbert replied. "I'm scared. I'm going to lose the one thing I held most dearly in my life. I'm terrified. But I've accepted it."

"Gilbert, I—"

"Shush."

"_Planet Earth is being recycled. Please evacuate immediately._"

"I love you, Gilbert. _Je T'aime._"

"I love you, too. _Ich liebe dich._" Gilbert kissed Matthew tenderly on the lips for what might be the last time. "We'll meet again, Mattie. I don't know where, and I don't know how. But I'll find you."

"Gilbert…"

"Shush…" Gilbert said again, stroking Matthew's hair. "Listen to the end of the world with me."

And so Matthew closed his eyes and listened. Listened to the fires and explosions get closer. Listened to the screams of terror as homes were destroyed and people met their doom. Listened to the mighty crack as the asphalt split in another fissure. Listened to Gilbert's voice become shaky and thick with tears as he whispered soothing things into his ear. Listened to the voice overhead repeat its message over and over and over again.

"_Planet Earth is being recycled. Please evacuate immediately._"

And then, there was silence.

* * *

_A/N: I had a dream last night where something similar to this was happening, but there was no chaos around me. My grandmother was there, watching as I panicked, and I tried to get her to come with me to escape, but she just smiled sadly, saying it was too late. She told me to go on, though, and try to escape. She said that she would meet me where I was going._

_Dammit, woke up crying..._

_You get an extra chapter today because it's Halloween._

_If you'd like a song that goes very well with this chapter, copy and paste this to the end of the youtube address: /watch?v=jwm5AgCC21M&feature=related_

_At 3:40 is a part that I really like._

_~Jel_


	40. Knowing How

"Dance with me."

The request had been sudden, almost out of nowhere. Gilbert looked up from his laptop. Had he heard that correctly?

"Dance?" he asked Matthew, who was sitting next to him on the couch in the living room. Matthew nodded.

"That's right."

"With you?"

"Of course!"

Gilbert was quiet for a moment.

"_Dance?_"

"Oh, come on, Gil," Matthew said. "It'll be fun. And romantic. And I'm feeling romantic. Humor me."

Gilbert frowned. "What kind of dancing are we talking about here?"

"You know," Matthew shrugged. "Slow dancing. A waltz or something."

"Absolutely not."

"Please?" Matthew begged, stealing away Gilbert's laptop. "Just one song." He went to YouTube and searched for waltzes, clicking the first song that came up. He turned up the volume and set the computer aside, standing up and dragging Gilbert to his feet. "All right?"

"Matt, no…" Gilbert protested, but Matthew already had one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip. "It's embarrassing."

"How?" Matthew asked. "We're the only ones here."

Gilbert looked down at their feet and blushed.

"Dunno how…" he mumbled. Much to Gilbert's chagrin, Matthew chuckled. "What? It's not funny!"

"Oh, Gil," Matthew said, shaking his head. "You don't need to know how to dance. It doesn't matter, just to what feels most comfortable to you."

"But…" Gilbert tried to find a place to place his hands, settling upon putting them on Matthew's hips. "Aren't there special steps I should know?"

"I guess, but it's not like _I_ know them, either!" Matthew laughed. "Just… move to how the music feels. You're good at that sort of thing.

Gilbert frowned, but followed instructions, shuffling his feet awkwardly to the rhythm of the music, trying not to crush Matthew's toes and failing miserably. Matthew was more daring, leading them in slow circles around the living room. Gilbert would have been more insulted that he was being led around like a girl, but he was too focused on not tripping up and making a huge fool of himself. The song ended quickly, but Matthew started up a new playlist of dance music. They got back into position and the "dancing" continued. They swayed around the room, gradually relaxing and getting better at not stepping on each other's feet.

By the third song, both of Matthew's hands had descended to Gilbert's hips. By the fifth song, Gilbert's head was rested against Matthew's shoulder. By the tenth song, there was no space left between them. The playlist ended, but they didn't separate, instead dancing along to the imaginary tempo the last song had left off.

"Love ya, Gil."

"Damn straight you do," Gilbert said. "You do realize I wouldn't be caught dead doing this with anybody else, right?"

"Yes, I know."

"Good." Gilbert placed a kiss on Matthew's lips. "Now, as reward for my awesome cooperation, I think we should head back to the bedroom…" he said with a lazy grin. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right," he said. But even though his tone was dismissive, he let go of Gilbert and sauntered off in the direction of the bedroom. Gilbert's grin widened. Maybe they should dance like this more often…

* * *

_A/N: Gah, fluff. I have an entire notebook almost filled with these stories, because I like to write them down before typing them up. But don't worry. I have a backup._

_2/5 of the way there! 40% done! Almost halfway through! However you want to say it, I'm still going strong! I'd like to thank everybody who reviews and puts up with me in general. I'm really excited, because this and another story of mine has just reached 9,000 hits! (It's over NINE THOUSAAAAAAND! /what, nine thousand?/)_

_Thanks a million!_

_~Jel_


	41. Fork in the Road

Four in the morning is never a good time to be woken up by the doorbell. Especially when your dachshund has the most annoying bark on the face of the planet and has probably woken up every goddamn person within a two-mile radius. Gilbert had half a mind to go back to sleep and ignore the bell and the dog. But then a strong wind picked up outside, whistling shrilly around the house and reminding him that it was a blizzard out there, and while he was tired, he figured he should probably go out and see who in their right mind would come to his house in a snowstorm at four AM. At this hour, it was probably important.

"Moby, would you _shut up?_" he yelled at the annoying dog. He threw his covers off and made his way towards the front door, with Moby completely ignoring his master's orders to be quiet. The doorbell rang again right as Gilbert was about to unlock the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming... keep your pants on..." he mumbled, and opened the door. Moby hobbled out like the fat little spaz he was and tried to defend his master from the intruder. "Chill out, dog. It's only..." Gilbert finally looked up to see who had come knocking at this ungodly hour, only to have the blood drain from his face in dread and surprise.

Blue eyes, and blond hair, and a weak smile. Standing in the middle of a fucking blizzard, face half-frozen, and still trying to manage a smile as if he weren't on the brink of getting hypothermia.

"... Matt?"

Matt waved a little. "Hey, Gil." He shivered violently. "Um. S-sorry for waking you and all. B-but the weather's b-been up like this for a few d-d-days now, and my p-power just went out, and I r-ran out of f-food, and I'm t-tired... so tired... I d-didn't think it w-would last this long..." He coughed a cough that made it sound like there was something in his lungs. There was no doubt in Gilbert's mind that the poor guy was sick, probably with pneumonia. "Your offer's s-still open, right? C-can I come in?"

Moby was still barking his head off, so Gilbert picked up the little shit to shut him up. "Of course!" he said, opening the door wider so Matt could walk in. He tracked in dirty snow and mud, but that wasn't exactly important at the moment. Gilbert closed the door and latched the deadbolt to keep the cold from seeping through, and put Moby back down. "How long have you been out in this weather?"

Matt didn't answer immediately. His sights were set on Gilbert's couch, which he staggered over and collapsed onto. He sighed and tried to fold in on himself in an attempt to warm up faster, but it didn't seem to work very well, as he was still shuddering. "Dunno. Hour. Maybe two."

"Are you insane?!" Gilbert said. "You could have died!"

Matt gave a bitter laugh. "I know." He sat up and started peeling away his snow-soaked outer wear, putting it all into a pile on the floor. He pulled off his pathetically inadequate gloves, revealing finger after chilly red finger. He flexed his hands and rubbed them together in an attempt to get his blood circulating again. "Funny thing is, it's a fifteen-minute walk from my house to yours."

"Then what the hell were you doing out there for so long?" Gilbert asked. He grabbed one of Matt's hands. "Don't rub your hands together! You'll make it worse!" Suddenly, Gilbert had never been more thankful that his high school health class had covered how to treat things like frostbite. He gently squeezed his fingers. "Can you feel that?"

Matt winced. "Yeah, but it hurts."

Gilbert went to his feet and pulled off Matt's socks for him. Luckily, his toes didn't seem nearly as bad as his fingers, as his socks were thick and his boots were warm. Gilbert frowned, though. They were still too cold to be healthy. "We need to get you warm," he said. Matt wasn't frostbitten, but he was nipped pretty badly. Any longer outside and Matt would have needed professional medical care, and that was impossible to get with the roads as icy as they were. Frostbite was no laughing matter. "Take off the rest of your clothes. I'll get you something dry to change into and some blankets. I'll be right back."

Gilbert left to find his warmest sweaters, pants, socks, and blankets to warm up Matt. When he got back to the living room, he found Matt in nothing but his underwear, petting Moby and letting the dog lick his frozen fingers. He looked up when Gilbert came in. "You never told me you had a dog."

"Yeah," Gilbert said, handing Matt the clothes to put on. "He's a spoiled little turd. Barks at everything. He seems to like you, though." Gilbert was beyond surprised that Moby was actually licking Matt's fingers rather than trying to bite them off.

"He's cute," Matt said before pulling on the pants and shirt Gilbert gave him. Gilbert snorted.

"The novelty wears off, trust me." Gilbert went into the bathroom and got a thermometer. "Here," he said, giving the device to Matt. "Take your temperature. I'm gonna go and find something to warm you up." Matt put the thermometer in his mouth and looked cross-eyed at the rising numbers while Gilbert looked around for something that could work to raise Matt's core temperature. Eventually he stumbled upon a pillowcase, which he filled halfway full with rice and tied the opening off before putting it in the microwave to cook. Over the hum of the microwave, he heard the tinny beep of the thermometer. Gilbert rushed into the living room to check on Matt.

"94.2," Matt read off. "Normal's 98, isn't it?"

Four degrees. Four degrees was all that was separating Matt from normalcy and a trip to the hospital. Gilbert couldn't help but consider him lucky to be alive. What if he had decided to go back to sleep instead of letting Matt in? What if Matt had waited longer before swallowing his pride and coming to Gilbert for help? What if? What if? What if?

"Yeah," Gilbert said finally. "98's normal." The microwave beeped, and Gilbert went to retrieve the bag of hot rice. He handed it to Matt. "Put that on your stomach or chest. Your body temperature needs to come up before your frost-nip can get properly treated, so whatever you do, don't warm your hands up yet. The cold blood from your fingers will just rush to your heart and brain, and that's not good. I'll take your temperature again in a little bit to see if you're getting better. Let me know when the bag starts getting cold and I'll nuke it again."

Matt nodded and did as he was told. He wrapped up in two blankets and snuggled into the couch, making himself as small as he could to conserve heat. After he seemed comfortable, he looked back up at Gilbert. "You're spoiling me," he said. "Like Moby."

At hearing his name, Moby trotted back up to Matt in want of more pets, and Gilbert rolled his eyes. "It's not spoiling if it's the best thing to keep you alive at the moment." He sat down in an armchair. "Now, I'll ask again: why were you outside for so long if it's only a short walk from your house to mine?"

Matt let an arm dangle over the side of the couch so he could pet Moby while still keeping the rice on his stomach. His eyes got a sort of faraway look as he seemed to come up with the words to answer. "I guess…" he started. "I didn't really know what to do."

"It should have been easy, Matt. All you had to do was come over straight away. You didn't have to put yourself through this."

"I don't know…" Matt said, closing his eyes. "I was just torn… I was at the end of my driveway, and I was just standing there, trying to decide if I should go right or left. I didn't wanna show up even though last week I told you I would be fine. Didn't wanna worry ya…" He yawned. "Gil, I'm really tired. I'm gonna sleep now…"

Gilbert immediately got up and shook Matt's shoulders. "No! You can't sleep now; it's dangerous! You need to stay awake. Just a while longer until your temperature gets back up. I'll stay up with you. Just don't fall asleep on me, Matt." It was a very real fear that Matt might go to sleep now and never wake up.

"Okay, okay…" Matt mumbled. "I won't go to sleep. But it'll be hard staying awake if it's all quiet. You should talk or somethin'. Talk about yourself. You never do that when you give me rides."

Gilbert sighed. This guy… "What do you want me to talk about?"

Matt shrugged. "Everythin', I guess."

So he did. He talked about everything, from his childhood, to school, to his family, to his job, to past relationships. He had to pause a few times to re-warm the rice, and eventually Matt's temperature went back to normal. It was hours before he was out of things to say, and at that point, the clock read seven in the morning. The storm was finally over, and Matt could finally feel his fingers again. Gilbert got up one last time to go to the kitchen, but this time he brought back two mugs of hot chocolate and handed one to an upright Matt.

"Thanks for coming to me," Gilbert said. "I know what it's like to be too proud to ask for help, but there are times and places when pride can be dangerous."

Matt took a long swig of the piping sweet drink. His eyes were cast down at the floor where Moby lay sleeping. He almost looked ashamed. Almost. "Yeah, okay. I got it. I almost died. Thanks."

Gilbert only smiled and sipped at his own drink.

"You're welcome."

* * *

_A/N: I am truly sorry for the long wait. *bows* School has not been kind to me, and I have not been kind to school. We were having a little bit of trouble, but we're getting along again._

_This is the sequel to Mist, in case you couldn't tell. Matt got stuck in a snowstorm they were talking about without power or food._

_Gilbert's a really good guy sometimes._

_I just realized yesterday that there might be some confusion with the way that I characterized Matthew in these chapters. THIS IS NOT 2P CANADA. I REPEAT. NOT 2P. He's just kind of stubborn. Gilbert thinks that he's proud, but really he just doesn't want to trouble people. Sorry for any confusion that might have occurred._

_ALSO: This has been a small tribute to my step-sister's dog, Moby. He was a fat little longhair dachshund who could hardly get up steps, but he thought he was all high and mighty. Her husband always called him a little piece of shit, but he really loved him. He even built him a doghouse. He died last summer, a little bit after July 4th._

_Plus, I just really like the idea of Germany having those three big dogs and then Prussia has a little dachshund._

_Thank you for reading!_

_~Jel_


	42. Start

Matthew looked down at the unmarked DVD on the kitchen table, at the empty envelope it had come in, and finally at the note enclosed that was, surprisingly enough, addressed to him.

_Dear Matthew,_ it read. _As your brother may have told you already, I have been working with a team of my classmates in college on a very special kind of video game. Alfred was very disappointed that he would not get the opportunity to play it, however, as this game was specifically made with you in mind, Matthew. I would like for you to play it through and then send feedback to me via the return address on the envelope._

_The platform is PC. Simply insert the game into your computer, and it will automatically install and start up. I suggest playing this game at a time when nobody will see you, and please, do not let your brother play or watch you play this game. It would ruin the experience, I would imagine, and I would like for you to get as much out of this game as possible._

_Please enjoy the game, and let me know if you liked it in a letter. Feel free to keep the game after you complete it._

_Sincerely,_

_Kiku Honda_

Matthew read over the letter a few times before it sunk in what he was expected to do. What business did Alfred's friend have giving him a game like this? Why did Matthew have to keep it secret from his brother? What kind of game could it possibly be?

There was only one way to find out, he decided.

He brought the contents of the envelope with him to his room where he booted up his computer and put in the disk. He closed and locked the door, just in case his brother decided that he wanted to come home early and be nosy. Like the note said, the disk automatically began installing. A few minutes later, an icon appeared on the desktop. He double-clicked it. A pop-up window came up with the apparent title of the game.

_White_

_Play?_

_-yes_

_no_

_load_

_unlocked_

The background was a soft, glowing white, and the letters were gold and red. Pretty piano music played in Matthew's headphones. The cursor blinked over the _yes_ button, and Matthew flipped between the four options with the arrow keys. He couldn't select the _load_ or _unlocked _options, presumably because nobody had ever played before. Matthew's heart beat a little bit faster. Alfred always said that Kiku sent him scary horror and suspense games to play. It didn't seem that scary, though...

_Play?_

Matthew highlighted the _yes_ button again. With only a few more moments of hesitation, he pressed the enter key. The screen faded to black, and the music stopped. For a second, Matthew thought that the game had frozen, but then the sound of birds and wind in the trees poured from his headphones. A translucent white box came up with two options.

_-Boy?_

_Girl?_

Matthew selected _Boy,_ and a new box came up with a keyboard and an entry space. Matthew typed his name and pressed enter again. That box disappeared. Matthew couldn't help but note that the game seemed to be very well done for just college kids. He wondered how long it had taken.

A new box came up along the bottom of the screen, which was still black. Text faded into the box.

… _Matthew? Hey, Matthew! Snap out of it!_

Matthew was in red text, while the rest of the words were gold. The screen brightened, revealing the character who had spoken, and Matthew gasped out loud.

Standing in the virtual outdoor world of Kiku's game was none other than Gilbert Beilschmidt. Gilbert Beilschmidt, who had been the object of every single sexual and romantic fantasy Matthew had had for the past year and a half.

It was almost creepy how accurate this digital version of Gilbert was. His hair was the perfect shade of white, his eyes that dark reddish-brown that was nearly impossible to describe, let alone replicate. His skin was smooth and pale, and Matthew could have sworn that he'd seen Gilbert wear that same shirt a few times in real life. The game-Gilbert's mouth was turned down in a worried frown.

_Are you okay?_

Frankly he was gorgeous, though Matthew knew he couldn't compare to the real one.

A new box popped up with two options.

_-Sorry, I must have been spacing out. What were you saying?_

_Huh?_

Matthew chose the first option, and the virtual Gilbert grinned.

_I was just saying that the awesome me is bored of the park! Where do you wanna go, Matthew?_

_Where should you and Gilbert go?_

_-Movies_

_Café_

_Beach_

_Home_

Oh, god.

Matthew suddenly knew what type of game this was. His heart palpitated almost painfully in his chest, and a blush exploded onto his face. He'd heard about dating games before, but he never thought he would ever play one.

Matthew's question now was _why_ had Kiku made and given him such a game?! And how did he know about his crush on Gilbert?

This game was sick. Sick and vulgar and awful. There could never be a replacement for the true Gilbert. Matthew shut off the game and stood up. He wouldn't play it.

If he was going to date Gilbert, he would do it in real life.

* * *

_A/N: Later that night, Matthew played the game for five hours straight and unlocked all sixteen endings, including the "R-18 Bedtime True End" you get from selecting Home._

_He would use it as porn until he finally mustered up the courage to actually ask Gilbert out._

_~Jel_


	43. Nature's Fury

_Drip, drip, drip..._

"_A flash flood warning has been issued for the suburban area. Please seek shelter at higher elevation..._

_Drip, drip, drip, SPLASH!_

"_Those living near creeks or other bodies of water are advised to take special precautions..."_

"Gil, it's your turn to empty the water bowl."

"Do I _have_ to?"

"You do if you don't want water damage to fix."

Gilbert grumbled, but got up anyway to do as Matthew asked. He went to the kitchen to check the little Tupperware bowl that was indeed overflowing onto the cheap linoleum floor. He picked it up, poured it into the sink, and set it back down underneath the leak in the roof. Water continued its _drip, drip, drip_ into the bowl, and Gilbert went back to sit with Matthew on the couch in the living room.

"_Thanks for that report, Stacy. Now let's hand it over to Greg with sports..."_

"One of these days, I'm gonna fix that leak," Gilbert said. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"No, you're not," he retorted. "You'll break your neck. I'll call somebody who knows what he's doing."

"I'd know what I was doing! I'll look it up on the Internet or something. It couldn't be that hard."

"You'd fall off the roof."

Gilbert pouted and swooned dramatically. "Have you no faith in me? You wound me, Mattie!"

Matthew chuckled and pulled Gilbert closer. He knew he was just kidding.

_Drip, drip, drip, drip..._

* * *

_A/N: No real heartfelt meaning or anything for this one._

_Next chapter might be a tad bit sad. Or maybe heart-wrenchingly so. Or maybe just really fluffy. We'll see._

_~Jel_


	44. At Peace

Everyone has their own definition for peace. A common one is "absence of war or fighting." Another is "something achieved when all fates and past mistakes are accepted." The American Heritage College Dictionary defines peace as "inner contentment; serenity." Matthew likes all of these definitions. He thinks they're all very straightforward and short and meaningful.

However, what peace means to him is different.

Peace to Matthew is waking up each morning with the knowledge that it's a new day. Mistakes are behind him, and it's time to start fresh.

It's enjoying his job so that it never really feels like work.

It's taking things slowly, one step at a time, and going at his own pace.

But mostly, it's taking the time to appreciate the simplest and most mundane things about life in a new light.

(This is Matthew's favorite part about peace, because it involves his most important person in the world.)

Things like waking up early and making pancakes for Gilbert, because it's so sweet the way he'll walk into the kitchen following his nose with a groggy smile, and then cling to Matthew until he's given a plate.

Things like spending hot afternoons sprawled over air conditioning vents like children to keep cool, and complaining about the miserable outdoor weather while eating ice pops.

Things like having a scary dream and waking up in the middle of the night, only to see Gilbert lying in bed with him, snoring away with a slight upward curve to his lips that never seemed to fade, and feeling safe and warm and comforted just because he's there to hold like a big teddy bear.

These are the things that Matthew includes in his definition of peace because they are things that make his world go 'round. Without them, he'd be very lost and very sad.

He likes those other definitions a lot, too. It's just that his meaning is better.

* * *

_A/N: Looks like it turned out fluffy :)_

_~Jel_


	45. Heart Song

_Pillars of post-war books supported my frame of mind while she memorized the pages that I tried to not hide behind._

"Do you ever read about your own history, Prussia?"

"No." Prussia turned the page of his novel. Canada scanned the words in his history book.

"Why not?" Canada asked. Prussia shrugged.

"It's my life. I already know what happened when. Don't see a point in reading about stuff I can remember."

"But aren't you curious about how different people tell your story?" Canada stood and leaned over the library table, pushing his book in front of Prussia and pointing out a passage. "Like this one goes really in-depth with the information about you during the World Wars, but it just touches briefly on your childhood." He took a book from the small pile on the floor and opened it at random. "But this one is almost completely about the Teutonic Knights."

"That's the problem with history books," Prussia said. "They never give the full story. Like I already said, I can just remember these things. And who wants to read about the history of a dead nation anyway?" He glowered and hid his face behind his book.

Canada hummed. "Well, _I'd_ certainly like to know more about you," he said. He started to read passages out loud. "In 1211 Andrew II of Hungary granted Burzenland in Transylvania as a fiefdom to the Teutonic Knights. In 1225, Andrew II expelled the Teutonic Knights from Transylvania, and they had to transfer to the Baltic Sea. Konrad I, the Polish Duke of Masovia, unsuccessfully attempted to conquer pagan Prussia in crusades in 1219 and 1222. In 1226 Duke Konrad invited the Teutonic Knights, a German military order of crusading knights, headquartered in the Kingdom of Jerusalem at Acre, to conquer the Baltic Prussian tribes on his borders." He flipped to a new page and grinned. "Listen to this! 'Prussia was not a country with an army, but an army with a country.' Some minister said that..." he mumbled as he flipped through the book some more.

"I really wish you wouldn't do that..." Prussia grumbled.

"Why?" Canada said, skimming over a page. "I'm learning about your past. Is that so bad?"

"Yes!" Prussia said, and swiped the book away. "It's _my_ past! And there are things in it I'd rather you not know. Personal things."

Canada blinked. "But I thought-"

"You thought wrong." Prussia closed the history book and went back to reading his novel with an uncharacteristic scowl. Canada shrunk down in his seat and fidgeted with his fingers.

"Sorry..."

_She took my hand in hers and whispered her love for me. The lantern died that night, but we didn't need to see._

_CRACK!_

Not too far in the distance, lightning struck a power line. The sudden surge of electricity caused the breakers to short out, leaving a small block of houses without power. One of these houses belonged to Canada, who had been reading by the light of a small lamp before the light bulb flickered out. Prussia dozed next to him in the bed.

"Prussia, power's out."

The silveret didn't react, appearing to already be asleep. Canada marked his place in his book and put it on the bedside table, placing his glasses on top of that. The darkness and silence surrounded him, making his ears ring. The constant hum of electricity throughout the house that you don't normally notice died, and suddenly the only sound was Prussia's even breathing as he slept. Canada watched as Prussia's form rhythmically rose and fell with each calm breath. At last, Canada laid down, the sheets rustling loudly in comparison to the silence around him, and forced his own breathing to slow down.

"I'm sorry for being nosy today," Canada whispered. He reached next to him in the bed and took hold of Prussia's limp hand. "It's your personal business. I shouldn't have been prying." He gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I love you."

And then Canada fell asleep, leaving nobody awake in the entire house.

… Or so he thought.

Prussia smiled and slowly threaded his fingers with Canada's before going to sleep. For real, this time.

_Implying that she's the bee's knees, then I am the cat's meow. It's funny how she recalls what I can't remember now._

_But when her smile came back and I didn't feel half as horrible, she gave me a heart attack just because she looked so adorable. We both put our sunblock on, laid on the beach and vowed that we'd live and we'd learn._

"Okay, Prussia, turn around. I'll get your back."

"You're making me wear a shirt, anyway. Why do I have to have it on my back, too?"

"Better safe than sorry," Canada said as he squeezed the lotion into his hand and started rubbing it on Prussia's back. "The sun's really hot out there today."

"I ain't afraid of no sunlight. I'm not a vampire," Prussia complained.

"Vampire, albino, close enough," Canada joked. "You'll burn up if you're not careful."

Prussia rolled his eyes and jerked away. "Yeah, yeah." He pulled his shirt over his head. "Can we go now? I wanna play in the water!"

Canada sighed, but nodded. Prussia grinned and whooped with joy, running out of the ramshackle changing room to play in the waves. Canada walked out after him. Even though Prussia was older than the northern nation, he acted like such a child sometimes!

Canada loved him for it, though. He loved him for everything.

He unfolded one of the three towels he'd brought on a strip of dry sand far away from the water, leaving the other two folded and clean so that Prussia could dry off when he got bored of the ocean. He squinted up at the sky. The sun beat down on the sand and caused it to burn beneath Canada's bare feet, so he ran as quickly as possible to the wet sand down at the shore, a bright smile on his face as he saw Prussia picking up sand dollars and other little sea creatures. Prussia looked up and saw Canada coming toward him and grinned.

"Look! This one's still alive!"

"You're not supposed to dig them up alive!" Canada laughed and splashed the briny water at Prussia. Soon they were in a full-fledged splashing war—complete with pushing and dunking—that lasted a whole ten minutes before Prussia got sick of it and went to sit in a tide pool. Canada followed him and sat down, too, pointing out all of the little creatures he could recognize.

Time went by more quickly than either of them could have predicted, and soon the sun was low in the sky. The pair collected a few sand dollar skeletons to bleach later, and returned to the dry sand to towel themselves off. After gathering their things, they went to the car and drove home.

Prussia got out of the car first, unable to wait to get a shower so he could get the sand out of his ears and other uncomfortable places.

An entire five minutes passed before Canada heard an agonized yell coming from the bathroom.

"SCHEßIE!"

"Sunburn?" Canada yelled back.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Aloe's under the sink!" Judging by the volume of Prussia's scream, Canada figured he'd need a lot of it.

_Yeah, but she got a tan and I got a sunburn._

* * *

_A/N: I learned what passive voice is and that it's not good. I've been practicing avoiding passive voice in my writing. My English teacher said it would make my words more powerful or something. How'd I do?_

_The song is called Sunburn by Owl City. Information about Prussia is copy-pasted from Wikipedia. My grandparents said that it's illegal to dig up sand dollars while they're still alive and take them home._

_~Jel_


	46. Reflection

"_Who is that girl I see staring straight back at me? Why is my reflection someone I don't know?"_

"Gil, why are we watching Mulan?"

"Because it's a classic," Gilbert said as he munched on a handful of popcorn. "Now shut up, the best part of the song's coming up!"

Matthew rolled his eyes as Gilbert sang along to the rest of the words, cringing when he hit the high E flat scarily well. Matthew chuckled.

"You are such a dork." Gilbert grinned.

"Yeah, but I'm _your_ dork!"

Matthew couldn't argue with that.

* * *

_A/N: Short chapter is short. Sorry for the long wait; I was writing the Christmas special (which you won't get until the 24th :D)._

_~Jel_


	47. Perfection

Gilbert Beilschmidt is a perfectionist.

"BULLSHIT!" you might say, but it's true. Underneath the rough exterior and the ego the size of Pluto is the most perfectionist personality you will ever meet. His perfectionism surpasses his brother's. If he is met with a situation he is not familiar with, he will read every book on the subject, take extensive notes, and then tentatively go forth with whatever plan he might have come up with. He is very good at hiding this fact behind his apparent lack of concern for anything and everything, but anybody who knows him well enough also knows that he has a stash of self-help books under his bed in a box labeled "porn."

You should have seen him when he wanted to ask Matthew out.

First of all, there was the little problem of trying to figure out if he actually _liked_ the guy. Three books. Then, he had to know whether or not Matthew liked him back. Five books and two advice columns in the newspaper. After that came the second-to-hardest part, which was coming up with a proper way to ask him out. Ten books, a romance novel, and one conversation with Elizaveta (ew).

_The_ hardest part was actually asking him out. Two days rehearsing his speech in front of the mirror. Fifty bucks spent on some nice clothes for the date. One kick to the shin when he asked Ludwig how he looked for the umpteenth time.

This is a short recap of his first attempt.

"Hey, Mattie, what's up?"

"Not much. You?"

"Not much."

"…"

"…"

This is a short recap of his second attempt.

"Hey, Mattie, wanna go to the movies with me?"

"What?"

"Um. Never mind."

"No, seriously, what? I couldn't hear you; I had my headphones in."

"Forget about it."

This is a short recap of his third attempt.

"I kinda need to talk to you about something, Matt."

"…"

"The thing is, I think I like you. As in, like, like-like you."

"…"

"So I was wondering if you might wanna go on a date or something sometime?"

"…"

"Matt?"

(Matthew fell asleep.)

This is a short recap of his fourth attempt.

"Matt, I like you!"

"I like you, too, Gil."

"No, I mean I _like_ you."

"Yeah, me too."

"As in, I think we should start dating."

"…"

"…"

"I kind of thought we already were, eh?"

And that's how Gilbert not-so-perfectly asked Matthew out.

* * *

_A/N: Perfectionist Prussia is actually canon, along with HRE=Germany, as of the latest Comic Birz strips._

_~Jel_


	48. Everyday Magic

"Now just say the spell. One word. And concentrate."

Matthew scrunched his eyes shut and focused on the weight of the little pebble in his hand. It was round and smooth and very light. He conjured an image of the pebble in his mind. He imagined it filling with magick and doing what he wanted. He willed it to lift up from his hand and fly through the air. He willed it with all his might, and when he couldn't possibly focus any more, he whispered:

"Loften."

And suddenly, the weight of the pebble was no longer in his hand, but in his mind. Matthew's eyes flew open and he looked down at the pebble. It was floating a little ways above his open palm. He grinned, and his eyes went up to Gilbert.

"I did it! Did you see? It's floating! It's floating!" He giggled with glee. He'd actually done it! He really did have a gift!

"Great job, liebling." Gilbert was beaming with pride, a look that Matthew had never gotten from his parents. It made him feel loved. "Now can you make it float to me?" Gilbert held out his hand expectantly.

Matthew hesitated, but didn't let his concentration break. He nodded and stared at the floating pebble, making it lift a little more before sending the small projectile towards Gilbert, but trying to do so slowly so as not to lose control. To his surprise, the pebble shot forward more quickly than he had anticipated, and in his attempt to slow it down, his concentration snapped. The pebble dropped and hit the ground with a clicking sound. Matthew frowned.

"It's all right," Gilbert assured him. "Try again."

Matthew picked up the pebble and focused again, mumbling the spell and lifting the pebble more quickly and easily this time. Now that he had an idea of how fast the pebble would go, he drew back the amount of magick behind his will. The pebble floated slowly and surely, just as Matthew had intended, over Gilbert's outstretched palm. He broke his concentration, and the pebble plopped into Gilbert's hand. Matthew's smile was back.

"I did it!"

"You're a very fast learner," Gilbert said. "It took me two days to figure out how to do what you just did. Granted, _I_ didn't have an awesome teacher." He grinned. "Ready for lesson two?"

Matthew nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes!"

* * *

_A/N: A sneak peek at a prequel I'm doing for a USUK story I recently published. Gilbert is a wizard/warlock/whatever, and Matthew is an elf._

_~Jel_


	49. Umbrella

The topic of urban myths and legends in an interesting one indeed. Some (and by some it's meant a lot of) urban legends are fabricated, fanciful figments of human imagination. Many are made up for no other purpose than to scare small children into behaving. Some are so incredibly ridiculous that it's impossible to take them seriously. Some are humorous. Some are scary. Some are heartbreaking. Some are gruesome. Some are beautiful. Some are fake.

But some are real. Some are very, very real.

Matthew Williams discovered this fact five years ago on a cold and rainy night.

The sky was thick with storm clouds, though the difference between clouds and city smog was negligible until rain started falling. It was a winter storm, which, unlike its summer counterpart, was neither warm nor pleasant nor cleansing. It was only dreary and bitter and overall miserable to all who are forced to endure it, and frankly, Matthew felt bad for the ones stuck in this sort of weather. It wasn't as if he could do anything but sleep through it, though, and so that's what he did. He dressed himself for bed and tried his very hardest to fall asleep.

That was difficult to do, however, as he lived on the top floor in a stout apartment building, and there happened to be someone bumping around on the roof. He tossed and turned and tried to drown out the noise, but it was as if somebody was jumping around up there!

Matthew threw off his covers and groggily put on a pair of shoes before grabbing his red umbrella and heading for the stairs that led up to the roof. The cold of the concrete stairwell nipped at his fingers and almost made him rethink his frustrated quest to quiet whoever was on the roof, but he pressed on, and soon made it to the door that opened up to the flat roof of the apartment complex.

He looked around. The roof was empty save for pieces of litter tumbling around. The rain and wind whipped and whistled around, causing Matthew's hair to fly and smack his cheek despite the protection his umbrella offered him. Nobody was jumping around on the roof. Nobody was even here—

Oh.

A man stood on the edge of the building, his back to the street below. Matthew could have sworn that he hadn't been there just a second ago. He wore dark clothes and ratty old sneakers with holes in the toes. From this distance, he looked like he had very fair blond hair and almost reddish brown eyes. He was staring directly at Matthew from all the way across the roof. Matthew took a step forward. The man took a step back, closer to the edge. Matthew's heart leapt in fear. Was this man suicidal? Was he going to jump?

"Hey!" Matthew called out. "What are you doing up here?"

The man's eyes widened and he took yet another step back. He teetered on the edge, and Matthew swore that his heart stopped. He was about to witness someone committing suicide!

"Stop!"

He jumped.

Matthew started running forward just as the man's head disappeared over the side of the building. Oh god, oh god, oh god, he'd really done it, and Matthew had just watched as a man took his own life! Was four stories enough to kill somebody? Matthew didn't want to think about that. Panicked tears pricked at his eyes and he knelt down to peer over the edge. Maybe he hadn't died on impact. Maybe Matthew still had time to call an ambulance! Maybe...

… he was holding onto the side of the building a few feet down?

Impossibly, the man seemed to be clinging to a window sill (Matthew's bedroom window sill, he noted) as if it were the easiest and most natural thing in the world to do.

"How did you do that?"

The man looked up at Matthew. He was closer than before, and Matthew got a better look at his face. His hair wasn't just pale; it was pure white. His eyes weren't reddish brown like he'd originally thought, but actually bright red. He was still silent, and Matthew started to come to the conclusion that he couldn't speak. Everything about the man was unnatural, almost in a frightening way, and yet Matthew found himself unafraid. If anything, he was intrigued.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked. The man's hair was plastered to his face from the rain, and his clothes were soaking. There was no way that his holey shoes could be considered adequate for keeping out the wintry chill. Matthew's question was only met with more silence. "Do you want to go inside the building?" Still no spoken answer. Matthew stood up and repositioned the umbrella above his head. What a strange creature, he thought, because there was no way that it could be human. Deciding that the best course of action was probably to retreat back to his apartment and pretend that this whole ordeal had never happened, Matthew started back towards the door from which he came.

Something tapped him on the shoulder. Matthew whipped his head around to see the creature standing behind him. He stepped back a little bit, simply looking at Matthew. Then he pointed to the umbrella. It took Matthew a moment to understand.

"Umbrella?" he asked. "You want this?"

The creature nodded.

Matthew hesitated before holding out the open umbrella to him. The creature took it from him and held it over his head, seemingly pleased with the way the rain no longer touched him. He grinned at Matthew in gratitude, revealing shiny, white, _sharp_ teeth. Matthew accidentally let out a hysterical little giggle. The creature closed his mouth but still smiled. Matthew turned around and ran down the stairs, not looking back to check if the creature had left.

Walking back into his bedroom, it was almost as if nothing had happened, save for the fact that he was suddenly without an umbrella. If he had kept it, maybe he could have convinced himself that nothing had happened. But the proof was there in his missing umbrella. There would be no calling this adventure a dream. He slipped his shoes off and wandered to the window where the creature had perched before. Long, deep gashes were carved into the concrete, as if a clawed monster had taken a swipe at it… or perhaps had used its claws to hold onto the side of the building.

Yes, the proof was there, and it was unlikely that Matthew would be forgetting this experience any time soon.

In the years following, Matthew noticed that if he looked outside on rainy nights, sometimes he would see a man carrying a red umbrella walking along the edges of rooftops.

* * *

_A/N: So I follow a chick named Humon on DeviantArt. Some of you may know about her. She recently posted some art about an urban myth called the "Roof Walker." Here is what she said about him:_

_"I have heard so many stories about him, yet I can't find anything on the internet, so if I am breaking some secret "only by word of mouth" rule about him, I'm sorry._

He is an urban myth and is a sort of Spring Heeled Jack creature, but with enough differences to make him his own. He is known as either Tag Vandren (Roof Walker) Tag Kravleren (Roof Crawler) or Tag Hopper (Roof Jumper). As all the names suggest he spends a lot of time on roofs, but he is actually just very reluctant to touch the ground, so trees, fences, cars, big rocks, and anything else will do.

He is described as being handsome but has clawed hands which he uses to climb walls and glowing orange dog eyes and no eyebrows. He dress in black, and according to some stories he has ink-black skin as well."

_I really liked the idea, but I changed some parts about his description obviously... Artistic license, right?_

_Hope you enjoyed!_

_~Jel_


	50. Party

"A party?" Matthew whispered to Gilbert during their study hall period. Gilbert nodded with a broad grin.

"Yeah! A Christmas-slash-end of the world party! Antonio and Francis are throwing it! It's gonna be awesome, and everybody from school is gonna be there!" Gilbert whispered back, his German accent and red hue of his voice showing through more than usual in his excitement. "I knew I couldn't show up without my awesome boyfriend. Girls might be trying to get a piece of the awesome, and I can't have that happening."

Matthew wanted to mention that everybody in the school probably already knew that they were an item, but didn't want to break up Gilbert's excitement. "Sounds like it'll be fun," he said instead. "Um... there won't be any... you know..." He trailed off. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"No alcohol, I promise. Wouldn't want my little goody two shoes getting in trouble!" He snickered a little more loudly than he'd probably meant, and the librarian shot them a look that said "shut up or I'll make you" and made Gilbert and Matthew both cringe. "It's just an innocent little party," Gilbert said more quietly, sneaking a wary glance at the librarian. No drugs, no alcohol, no sex…" He grinned. "Well…"

"Okay, I get it," Matthew said, cutting him off. "I'll ask my parents. They'll probably let me go."

"Great!" Gilbert started paying attention to his work again. "It's this Friday at seven. My parents can pick you up with me if you want."

Matthew nodded. Gilbert's host family was nice. Matthew had met them before he started dating Gilbert whenever he went over to study. Once they became boyfriends, it had been Gilbert's idea to officially introduce them, and they'd been perfectly fine with it, much to Matthew's relief. "That sounds good. I'll be there, then."

The librarian hissed at them to be quiet, and both teenagers ducked their heads to get back to work.

* * *

The doorbell rang, and Matthew hurried to let Gilbert in. Orange flashed from the direction of the stairs.

"Your boyfriend here?" Alfred yelled. Matthew blushed and rolled his eyes as he opened the door. Gilbert stood there grinning.

"You ready?" Maybe it was just Matthew, but his voice seemed a little bit more golden than usual.

"Yeah," Matthew said. "Al, I'm out of here! Let Mom and Dad know I'll be back by midnight when they get home, okay?" he shouted upstairs.

"'Kay!"

"All right, let's go," Matthew said, smiling. Gilbert took Matthew's hand like a gentleman and escorted him to the car where his parents waited.

* * *

Four hours later, Matthew found himself making out with Gilbert on Francis's couch. Some party-goers were snickering and telling them to get a room, and Matthew was starting to think that that would be a good idea, if only to get them to shut up.

"People are staring..." he murmured against Gilbert's lips. Gilbert grinned.

"I don't care. Let them stare. I wouldn't be surprised if they were getting turned on watching us."

Matthew smacked his arm playfully, and Gilbert chuckled, but pulled away. He checked his watch. "It'll be tomorrow in a little under an hour," he noted. "Looks like the world won't end after all."

"Told you so."

"I'm tempted to play victory music from a movie soundtrack or something."

"Which movie?"

Gilbert hummed. "Lord of the Rings."

"You've seen that movie?"

"Of course! It's awesome. Plus, that Legolas guy sort of reminds me of my _opa_. It's kind of creepy how similar they are, actually..."*

Matthew rolled his eyes. At the mention of Gilbert's life back in Germany, though, his smile fell. "I guess this is the halfway mark, huh?" he said. Gilbert looked confused, so he explained: "It's the end of the semester, halfway through the school year. You have to go back home soon."

Gilbert frowned. "Don't talk like that. We still have lots of time."

The gold in his voice was a little bit darker than it had been moments ago.

Matthew didn't say anything, but leaned back in to kiss Gilbert deeply. He didn't want to think, didn't want to depress himself with thoughts of separation, didn't want to miss any opportunity to be with Gilbert as a lover. "Maybe we should listen to those guys," he suggested softly.

"What?"

"I mean, maybe we should go somewhere private."

Gilbert blinked in surprise, and slowly he understood. "You mean...?"

Matthew nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"We're both seventeen, Gil," Matthew reminded him. "And I want to do this."**

Gilbert looked doubtful and concerned.

"Please?"

"... I'll ask Francis if we can use his bedroom."

Matthew smiled.

Gilbert's voice was bright gold again.

* * *

_A/N: Some notes:_

_*Admit it. Legolas looks a helluva lot like Germania. So does Lucius Malfoy from Harry potter._

_**The legal age of consent in America is sixteen. Did you know that it's only fourteen in Germany? Ya learn something new every day._

_This is part two of chapter 31 (Colours). I have decided that if I continue alternate universes, I will name the universe after the first chapter I use it in. For example, chapters one, five, eleven, sixteen, and seventeen are all part of the Introduction AU._

_This is part of the Colours AU._

_Raise your hand if you think that December 21 is bullshit! *raises hand* I have a playlist of victory music that I'm gonna play on the 22._

_~Jel_


	51. Troubling Thoughts

_We could get snowed in and run out of food._

_The power could go out and we'd freeze to death._

Gilbert shivered.

_Hear that wind? Sounds pretty strong. It'd be a shame if it happened to knock a tree down into the house._

A gust of wind rattled the windows to emphasize that last thought. Gilbert turned over in bed to shake Matthew awake.

"Matt!" he whispered. "Matt, wake up!"

Matthew mumbled a string of obscenities as he rolled over to shoot Gilbert the most deadly look he could manage at only two in the morning.

Frankly, it was anything but deadly.

"_What?_"

"Matt, it's snowing! It's a huge blizzard out there!" Gilbert said.

"Yes, Gilbert, it is. How incredibly observant of you." Ouch. Sometimes Gilbert forgot how _sassy_ Matthew could be first thing in the morning. "In case you need reminding, we are in _Winnipeg_ in the middle of _December._ It snows sometimes."

"But what if we get snowed in?" Gilbert fretted.

"We have plenty of canned food. We won't starve."

"A tree could blow over and destroy the house!"

"There are no trees large enough to do damage to the house within a fifty-meter radius," Matthew assured him. "Now go back to sleep."

"The power could go out," Gilbert said. "We could slowly freeze to death."

Matthew sighed. It was plausible that the power could go out with the wind and ice the way it was. But freezing to death?

"Okay," Matthew gave him. "The power could go out. But we won't freeze."

"How do you know?"

Matthew hummed. "Well, for one, we have lots of blankets lying around."

"Blankets?" Gilbert asked. "Come on, Matt, we're talking sub-zero temperatures here. Blankets are gonna do a whole bunch of nothing. We need a backup plan."

Matthew chuckled. "Right. I wasn't going to suggest this, but it seems you want to take drastic measures in this hypothetical situation."

"Exactly," Gilbert said, grinning.

"Well…" Matthew lowered his voice back to a whisper and sneaked closer to Gilbert. "We could always share body heat."

"Hmm…" Gilbert pretended to be dubious.

"It's the very best way to stay warm. Promise."

"All right, I believe you," Gilbert said, and reached out to draw Matthew into a close (and very warm) hold. "But I want to at least test it out."

Matthew yawned, too tired to comment or care about Gilbert's freezing feet. "Whatever. Now please go to sleep."

"You got it, Mattie-o!" Gilbert said, but it looked like Matthew was already drifting in dreamland. A smile tweaked at Gilbert's lips, and he placed a soft kiss onto Matthew's cheek before following suit.

And in the early hours of the morning, the wind and snow slowly died down to a dull white noise…

* * *

_A/N: EDIT: They're not in Vancouver anymore... I was getting reviews notifying me that it's really not that cold in Vancouver, so I changed it to Winnipeg. This is what I get for not researching at all whatsoever._

_In which Matthew isn't a morning person..._

_Gil would be one to freak out about the soundness of a house that isn't his._

_~Jel_


	52. Stirring of the Wind

"… and you're sure about this?"

"'Course I'm sure!" Gilbert yelled from the roof of Matthew's house. "There's only one way to find out if they still work as well as they used to! Am I right?"

Matthew shrugged. He supposed it made sense. He'd survived a greater fall, after all.

The man standing on Matthew's house, as mentioned before, was named Gilbert. One week ago, the man had mysteriously fallen from the sky just as Matthew was about to head out for work. His red eyes were intriguing. His white hair was natural, or so the man claimed. The large, black wings that protruded from his back…

Well, right now they were testing to see if they still worked well enough for proper flight.

"Ready?" Gilbert shouted down.

"Whenever you are!" Matthew yelled back.

Gilbert grinned and gave a thumbs-up signal before getting a running start off the relatively flat roof. He leapt from the final bit of solid roof before the gutter and unfurled his wings, preparing to soar into the sky.

Unfortunately, Gilbert was bound for a different sort of "soar." The kind spelled s-o-r-e that had to do with pain.

A massive gust of wind suddenly picked up from nowhere, causing Gilbert to lose his balance in midair and slam into the roof. Matthew winced as the winged man cried out in pain, cursing as he rolled down the slight slope of the roof and was deposited onto the grassy earth below.

"Your wings seemed to be working fine," Matthew said as he approached Gilbert with a smile. "But that wind knocked you straight out of the air! Crazy!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes and grumbled. "That wasn't just any wind. Came outta fuckin' nowhere, didn't you see?" He sighed. "I was afraid this might happen."

"Afraid what might happen?" Matthew asked.

Gilbert sat up and gestured vaguely around himself. "_This._ There's a force here that doesn't want me to fly. Not that I can blame it." He stood and brushed himself off. "I'm not exactly supposed to be here, yanno."

Matthew hummed in understanding, though he didn't really understand that much. "So you can't fly?"

"Spot on. I mean, I can still flutter around low to the ground, but what good is that?" Gilbert stretched his wings like a bird realigning its feathers after getting ruffled up. "No good," he answered himself. And Matthew could see that Gilbert was not used to being robbed of his gift of flight. He probably felt like a prisoner of the ground. "No good at all."

Matthew hummed in understanding, because this time he did understand.

* * *

_A/N: Part of the Faith AU._

_What must it be like to be so used to flying high in the sky, and then suddenly you are bound to the Earth like a trapped animal? It must be heartbreaking._

_~Jel_


	53. Future

"Do you ever think about the future, Gil?"

"Hmm?"

Matthew kicked his feet around in the air and stared up at the ceiling from his position prostrated across his boyfriend's bed. Gilbert sat at his desk, hunched over physics equations and tapping away at a calculator.

"The future," Matthew repeated. "Like, what are you doing after high school and stuff?"

Gilbert shrugged, obviously not paying much thought or attention past his homework. "College, probably. Get a degree in engineering or something. They make decent money, right?"

"Yeah," Matthew said.

"What about you?" Gilbert asked back. "What are you doing?"

"College, too. I'll major in English or literature or something. I'm not very good at numbers."

Gilbert chuckled. "Understatement of the year, much?"

"Hey!" Matthew said, playfully throwing a pillow at Gilbert. "I've made it this far without failing math! I can't be that terrible!"

Gilbert abandoned his work and turned around to face Matthew, grinning. "You _still_ get confused on sine, cosine, and tangent! I keep telling you, you have to memorize that mnemonic device I learned on the Internet!"

"Gil, no, it's stupid—"

But Gilbert was already reciting. "Some old hippie caught another hippie tripping on acid! Easy!"

Matthew rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. "You're so crazy," he said simply.

Gilbert laughed again and turned around to work on his physics. The tapping on the calculator resumed.

"To be honest, though," Gilbert mumbled. "I don't really care about what the future holds."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Matthew hummed. "How come?"

"I guess the only thing that matters to me is if you'll be in it," Gilbert said with a shrug.

Things were quiet for a moment as Matthew let Gilbert's words sink in. He sighed and hit his boyfriend with another pillow.

"You're so corny."

"But it was sweet, yeah?" Gilbert asked, throwing both of the pillows back on the bed. Matthew just shook his head and smiled.

"Yeah," he said. "It was sweet."

* * *

_A/N: What's this? Two updates in a row? NO STOP DON'T JINX IT!_

_Introduction AU. Other chapters from this AU (in order of appearance) include: Introduction, Unbreakable, 33%, Excuses, Vengeance, and Seeing Red._

_Sciencewolf suggested I make a list of other chapters in the same universe in the A/N. I guess I'll start doing that from now on._

_~Jel_


	54. Health and Healing

"You're very lucky we were able to diagnose him in such an early stage. Usually this sort of disease is misdiagnosed as meningitis or something with similar symptoms, but we were able to catch it. He should be fine to go home in a few weeks."

"And there won't be any lasting brain damage, right?"

"That usually only occurs in small children, and we started treatment quickly enough so that there wasn't much damage in the first place. I assure you, Mr. Williams, he'll be fine. At this point he just needs rest."

Matthew wrung his hands together and nodded. It wasn't that he didn't believe the doctor – he did. But looking at Gilbert lying on the starched white hospital bed, watching his chest slowly rise and fall with each laborious breath as his body tried to heal itself, listening to the steady beeping from the heart monitor hour in and hour out… It worried him.

"You can stay for thirty more minutes, but after that, visiting hours are over. You can come back tomorrow morning to check on him."

"Okay," Matthew said. "Thank you."

The doctor left and shut the door, leaving Matthew alone with Gilbert in the clean room that smelled strongly of antiseptic.

Matthew dragged a cushioned chair from by the window and put it next to the bed, sitting down close to his partner. He held Gilbert's pale hand. It felt far too cold for his liking, but the important thing was that he was really alive. Being told that your significant other has contracted a rare and deadly disease of unknown causes is terrifying, but the assurance that it was caught in an early stage – that it was treatable, that Gilbert would live – was the best news Matthew had heard in years.

Someone opened the door and cleared their throat. Matthew flinched and dropped Gilbert's hand, quickly turning around to see who it was.

"Oh," Matthew said in relief. "Hi, Ludwig."

Gilbert's younger brother nodded in greeting. "Hello," he said while glancing at Gilbert. "I only just got your message just a little while ago. I came as soon as I could."

"It's okay," Matthew said, feeling comfortable with holding Gilbert's hand again. "I understand that you must be busy."

"No, that's not an excuse," Ludwig berated himself. "I should have been here for him sooner."

Matthew hummed, not feeling up to an argument.

"Will he be all right?" Ludwig asked.

"Yeah," Matthew stroked the smooth skin on top of Gilbert's hand, felt the soft pulse at his wrist. "The doctors started treatment really fast. He'll be good as new in a few weeks."

"What exactly does he have?"

"Reye's Syndrome," Matthew replied. He didn't feel like talking about it, but Ludwig deserved to know. "It's a disease that causes harm to the liver and brain. Nobody knows what causes it. The doctors caught it at stage two."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "Stage two?" he repeated. "And what exactly is stage two?"

Matthew stopped stroking Gilbert's hand as he recalled the symptoms. "He was having horrible nightmares," he said. "He was thrashing around in his sleep. He was just… confused about things. And he was throwing up a lot, and just so unenergetic, and he got these really painful headaches, and—"

"Matthew, it's okay, you don't have to say any more—"

"He went completely stiff once," Matthew said, finally tearing up. "He wouldn't move, he wouldn't speak, a-and… I thought he would never come back, Ludwig." He broke down and grasped at Gilbert's hand like a lifeline. "I was so scared. I didn't know what to do."

"But he's going to be fine," Ludwig asserted. "These doctors are doing everything in their power right now. He's going to live."

Matthew tried to suck it up, but the image of Gilbert lying completely immobile and unresponsive still haunted his thoughts. He took in a shaky breath and tried to calm down. "You're right. He's going to be… fine."

Ludwig offered up a rare smile in some sort of attempt to comfort, and Matthew couldn't help but smile back.

"He's going to be fine." Matthew said again, but this time with more sureness.

The doctor returned a few minutes later to show them out. Ludwig left without complaint. Matthew squeezed Gilbert's hand one last time before he walked out of the room, trying to hold back his emotions.

_He's going to be fine._

Somehow, he believed it.

* * *

_A/N: I couldn't find much information about Reye's Syndrome, so I had to take some creative liberty with it. I had to be really vague with what exactly the treatment was. If anyone's a major in medicine and would like to give me some more information, please let me know in a review or message me privately._

_Happy New Year, everyone! We've come quite a long way, I think. A little over halfway there. I want to thank everybody who reads this thing, and the people who have been with me from the very beginning. It means so much to me, you guys :) I hope you continue to read and review in chapters to come, as it motivates me greatly._

_I'll see you all next year!_

_With love,_

_~Jel_


	55. Separation

It's funny how one word can have two completely different meanings.

Like murder, for instance. It can refer to the crime of killing someone, or maybe it could be used to describe the large group of crows screeching in the field next to Matthew.

It was a pretty enough day, Matthew supposed. It was overcast, but not very cold in spite of how late it was in the season. He stood in a pleasant spot beneath a tree bare of most of its leaves. He held a bouquet of flowers behind his back. Gilbert sat beneath the tree with him.

"Hi, Gil," he greeted casually. "I just thought I'd come meet with you out here. This is a pretty nice place, yanno?"

Gilbert didn't say anything, but Matthew didn't mind.

"Anyway," Matthew continued, "I know how much you hate sappy stuff like this, but I thought it's been a while since anyone's given you flowers, so…" He showed the bouquet to Gilbert. "I got you these! They're pretty, yeah?"

Gilbert didn't answer him. Matthew rattled on:

"I haven't had the chance to have a talk with you in a long time. Work's just been busy and stuff lately, and Al's been wanting to hang out more than usual for some reason. I know you must get lonely sometimes." Matthew put the flowers on the ground since Gilbert wouldn't take them. "But I like talking to you, Gilbert. I don't talk much otherwise because I don't know anyone who's as good a listener as you."

Matthew sat down on the grass and leaned against the tree, listening to the crows' cacophony in the adjoining field. Both Matthew and Gilbert were silent for a time.

"I love you," Matthew whispered finally.

A gentle breeze picked up and lifted Matthew's hair, caressed his face, and for just a moment, Matthew heard Gilbert's whispered _I love you, too_ in the soft touch of the wind.

Matthew smiled and stood up, preparing to leave.

"Thanks for listening," he said. "I'll be back soon. I promise."

And then he walked away, leaving the flowers on the patch of rich grass in front of Gilbert's granite gravestone.

* * *

_A/N: ... oh. No, it's okay, real life emotions, you can leak into my fanfictions whenever you want. It's not like it makes people sad or anything._

_~Jel_


	56. Everything for You

Matthew finds himself looking up at the stars more often than the average person. Not because he has nothing better to do, though that is sometimes the case. It's just that looking up at the endless ceiling of brilliantly shining heavenly bodies makes him feel so small. A good kind of small, a humbling kind of small. The kind of small that opens your eyes to the vastness of _everything_ in the universe, to the immense beauty of it all.

On cloudy nights he feels heartbroken. The stars are still there, but they're hidden. He feels trapped, isolated, and alone. His stars have been stolen by high-flying masses of opaque water vapor. He feels like suffocating, because if the stars are freeing, then the clouds are imprisoning.

But he finds himself thinking more and more that maybe his stars aren't the most important thing in the world.

He finds himself thinking that maybe, if it were for someone very special, he would give up his entire starry sky.

* * *

_A/N: This feels a bit like a continuation of chapter four._

_~Jel_


	57. Slow Down

It had started out slowly enough, the kisses soft and gentle and innocent for the most part. The touches were fleeting and light against cheeks and shoulders and sides. However, there was something about the time, the atmosphere, the alignment of the stars that made them go further. Their kisses became deeper and wetter; the touches traveled lower and lower to places that had never been touched in this way before, and before either of them knew it, the bedroom was hot and alive with excitement.

A haze descended upon Matthew's head; his brain went on auto-pilot, and he found himself getting swept away by Gilbert's touches and kisses and words. Everything was too much and yet not enough, and it wasn't until Gilbert's hand slipped beneath his shirt that Matthew finally came to his senses.

"Gilbert, stop."

Gilbert froze immediately and yanked his hand out from under Matthew's shirt in a rush, scooting over on the bed and trying to distance himself from his boyfriend. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I got carried away. I get it if you don't want to right now, since we've only been dating for—"

"No!" Matthew interrupted, crawling back over to Gilbert. "I didn't mean—we can still—" He stumbled over his words as he tried to find a way to put it. Gilbert just looked confused. "Can we just… slow down a little? I want to enjoy this." _It's our first time together, after all,_ went unsaid, but Matthew could tell it was understood.

Gilbert blinked a few times before his eyes softened, lips curving up into a smile, and he drew Matthew into a close hug that pressed their flushed bodies together. "Of course, _liebling,_" he murmured. "We'll go as slow as you want. And I'll take my time and make you feel really good."

Matthew blushed and shuddered and could only manage to nod because Gilbert's voice had gone all deep and husky when he'd said that last sentence and oh god he _knew_ he was in for the night of his life.

* * *

_A/N: Oh please let this be T-rated material. Let it be T-rated. I don't want to move it up to M. I think I'm good with leaving it at T, yeah? I didn't describe anything explicit so it's still T._

_Yes._

_*crosses fingers anyway*_

_~Jel_


	58. Lesson

"Ugh…"

Matthew sat sprawled on the ground, a spellbook in one hand, and a hot rune in the other. He felt miserable and completely drained of energy. He didn't know it, but one eyebrow was singed off. Moreover, there was a sizable pile of smoking ash and charred grass in front of him where a young oak tree had once grown. His teacher stood over him with a chuckle.

"Well, well, well. What have we learned today, my pupil dearest?"

Matthew grunted as he tried to stand. Gilbert helped him up.

"Never try to combine two spells."

"Never try to combine two spells," Gilbert affirmed, nodding. "Unless, of course, I tell you how."

"I thought it would be more powerful."

"And it was, wasn't it?"

"I can't feel my legs."

Gilbert laughed and slapped Matthew heartily on the back. "Well come on inside and rest, then. I think you might have accidentally summoned a storm."

Matthew nodded and limped alongside Gilbert to their home and tried not to pay attention to the fearsome thunder that rumbled overhead.

* * *

_A/N: This is part of the Everyday Magic AU. Other chapters in this universe include chapter 48._

_My internet has been really spotty lately, so I'm not so sure if I'll be able to upload chapters at reasonable times ^^; I'll try my best!_

_~Jel_


	59. Challenged

On the first day of the second semester, Matthew really should have known better than to come out to the school by walking hand-in-hand through the halls with Gilbert. It wasn't a huge deal, he thought, and yet people _made_ it a huge deal. There were jeers from afar, disgusted looks in the lunchroom, and by the end of the day he had three threatening notes in his locker. Gilbert told him to try to ignore it, that it would get better, but Matthew couldn't help it. He got angry.

"Hey, lookit the new faggot!"

Matthew and Gilbert both flinched as a group of football players approached. The one who had spoken was the left wide receiver, a pretty buff guy with blond hair shaved close to his head. His groupies laughed.

"How's it feel to be disgusting?"

"How's it feel to have mush for brains, Arschloch?" Gilbert retorted.

The receiver rolled his eyes. "You're in America, retard. Learn English."

"I know more than you and your D average!"

"I still don't know what the fuck you called me, so I refuse to be insulted."

"He called you an asshole," Matthew muttered. The receiver turned on him.

"What did you say, faggot?"

"I said he called you an asshole!" Matthew yelled. "And don't call me a faggot!"

"I'll call you what I want, faggot!"

"You shut up before I make you!"

The group of football players "ooh"ed and laughed, daring him to try. The receiver looked down on Matthew and smirked.

"I'd like to see you try. Go ahead. Defend your little freak of a boyfriend."

Matthew clenched his fists at his sides.

"Mattie..." Gilbert warned. "Just ignore them. Let's go."

"Yeah, listen to your freak butt-buddy," the receiver taunted. "Wimp out and walk away!"

The group laughed and laughed and laughed, and Matthew's anger built and built and built until finally he couldn't hold back anymore. The insult towards Gilbert was the last straw.

Suddenly the receiver was on the ground with a crooked nose dribbling blood, and Matthew stood over him with his arm still in its follow-through position from the punch. The group went silent and stared in shock at their fallen leader, and then at Matthew.

"I think you're forgetting," Matthew said quietly as he lowered his fist, "who the captain of the hockey team is, Mitch."

Mitch didn't say anything, but clutched his bleeding nose and shot Matthew the dirtiest look he could muster. Everybody else in the group looked intimidated and backed away slightly. One guy helped Mitch up, and slowly the football players dispersed.

Matthew grinned and looked at Gilbert, who blinked a few times before laughing.

Nobody bothered them again.

* * *

_A/N: I hate hate hate hate hate hate HATED writing this chapter... I don't like that F-word at all (I hope you know which one I'm talking about). It makes me cringe, and yet I wrote it so many times... But unfortunately this is the real world, and people use hateful words like that. I hope that nobody took offense to this chapter *bows*_

_I like to think that Mattie isn't a guy you wanna piss off. He's pretty mellow and normally ignores stuff like this, but insult his man and BAM your nose is broken._

_Even though this chapter started out badly, I hope you're satisfied with how it ended :)_

_~Jel_


	60. Exhausted

"C'mon, Mattie. One more round and that's it! Promise!"

"No, Gil. I'm too tired."

"I'll go easy on ya this time! Just a quickie. Please?"

"I said no. It takes too long to set up and get prepared..."

"But we do it so often that I'm really fast at it now. And you know as well as I do that the preparation is the worst part. After that it's fun!"

"I said no and that's final. I'm not in the mood and it's late. I just want to go to sleep."

"Are you suuure?"

"Yes."

"Mattie!"

"... Fine. We'll do it again in the morning, okay?"

"YES!"

Matthew rolled his eyes and smiled a little. "But tomorrow your ass is mine. I'm gonna beat you for once."

"No way! Not if I'm the banker! I'll just steal all the money and property deeds!" Gilbert said as he started stacking up all of the colorful play money from the Monopoly game.

"No cheating. Or else I won't play with you anymore."

"But cheating is the best part!"

"You're such a child."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

* * *

_A/N: Are too, Gilbert. Are too._

_This chapter is part of the Complicated AU. Other chapters from this universe include chapters 2 and 21._

_Still innuendos, but I decided to switch it up a bit. Now they're playing Monopoly :)_

_Monopoly is so hard to set up. I can never remember how much money to give each person because my game is old and the instructions are missing._

_~Jel_


	61. Accuracy

_A word of thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. You're great :)_

* * *

Matthew took a deep breath and drew the bowstring back as far as it would go. The strip of sunny clearing surrounded by forest sang silence and stillness, save for the occasional call from birds or chattering from squirrels in the thick summer treetops. Fifty feet straight ahead of him sat three large bales of hay with paper targets pinned upon them. Matthew's eyes trained on the middle target, the arrow notched in the bow steady as he aimed at the tattered and holey target. Almost… steady…

"Hey, Mattie!"

Matthew flinched at the sound of his brother's voice and accidentally loosed the arrow, sending it flying off-course and into the woods around the shooting range. The string snapped painfully against his forearm as he had been shooting without a guard. He sighed and lowered his bow, turning on his brother.

As usual, Alfred was soaking wet. He wore an old pair of cargo shorts and a tee-shirt that clung wetly to his torso. Half-dry hair dripped water and made a wet patch on the towel he had hanging around his shoulders. He didn't have on his glasses, which were most likely sitting on a table in the boat shed by the lake. He probably smelled like fish and lake muck.

Matthew on the other hand was quite clean, thank you very much. Like his brother, he had on shorts and a tee-shirt, but his blond hair most certainly wasn't soaking wet, he did not smell like lake, and was actually wearing his glasses.

"What is it?" he asked. Alfred pointed behind him.

"Break's over. There's a group of kids headed over. Just wanted to give you a heads-up so you can go ahead and get things ready."

Matthew nodded. "Okay, thanks." Alfred might have broken his concentration, but he meant well. Alfred grinned and jogged away from the archery shed and shelter to get back to his station.

Matthew and Alfred were working as counselors for a summer camp. Matthew thought it would be a good job to occupy himself with during summers away from college, and Alfred had tagged along when he found out that he would be getting paid to have fun with a bunch of little people. It wasn't an easy job helping take care of fifty kids a week, but it was pretty fun and satisfying, and almost like a vacation.

Matthew busied himself with getting the shooting stations set up with bows and arrows on the edge of the concrete platform facing the targets. Speaking of targets, they were way too far out for kids to be expected to shoot at, so he went ahead and dragged all three to the ten-foot line. They were heavy, but luckily they were situated on those kinds of hand trucks you use for bulk shopping at hardware stores, so they were easy to move. He thought about retrieving the arrow he had lost, but the laughter and chatter of children was starting to filter through the trees, signaling the group was almost there, so he made a mental note to go searching for it after the day was out and the kids were back in their cabins.

The leader of the group emerged from the forest path first, a tall guy with platinum blond hair and a big nose. His name was Ivan. He seemed intimidating at first, but turns out he was actually pretty good with kids. His group followed behind him in a single-file line with cheerful faces and excited whispers over shoulders, some pointing at the bows and arrows with expressions of awe. Ivan's group hadn't done the archery activity yet this week, so the children's excitement was understandable.

"Hello, Matthew," Ivan greeted with a happy little wave, an action that didn't really match up with the type of man delivering it. Matthew waved back and turned his attention to the kids.

"All right, guys, this is archery," he said. "Now I know you're all excited, but there's some safety stuff you have to know before you get started, okay?" The crowd of kids nodded, and Matthew went on to explain the different ways not to get hurt while shooting deadly weapons at hay bales. He demonstrated, then armed three kids at a time. Honestly, this was the most terrifying part of his job. Alfred always said his job was scary because there was always that one kid who couldn't swim very well and needed to be watched constantly, but Matthew thought that giving ten-year-olds weapons of killing potential and expecting them not to point them at each other was pretty stupid.

Every kid got five arrows to shoot each time they tried. Most failed pretty miserably and either overshot or didn't make it to the targets at all. Matthew tried to help as much as he could, but there was only so much he could do. Occasionally a kid would actually hit a target by some stroke of luck, and everybody would cheer for a few minutes before resuming. This went on for thirty minutes, though it felt like so much longer.

Eventually it was time for groups to switch. Ivan rounded up all of his munchkins and led them to their next activity while Matthew got a little time to prepare for the next group. This cycle repeated two more times until it was almost dark and time for dinner. Remembering the missing arrow, Matthew took a flashlight from the supply shed and set out to poke around in the woods.

He knew that the fletching had been green… or maybe it was red… orange? Well, at least there had to be a white bit on it somewhere… as long as it wasn't broken off…

Before he knew it, the sun had dipped below the horizon and it was far too dark to search anymore. Matthew sighed and did one last futile search before he turned to head back to the shed. He was halfway across the range when he heard someone walking on the gravel path. He froze. Who would be out here this late at night?

"Hello?" Matthew called out, pointing the flashlight beam aimlessly until it caught a sliver of stark white. He relaxed immediately as he recognized the person. "Oh, Gilbert. It's just you."

Gilbert was Matthew's bunkmate back in the miscellaneous staff cabin. Counselors with groups of kids naturally slept in the same cabins as the kids they looked after, but since Matthew was in charge of a station instead of a group, he slept in the staff cabin. Gilbert helped out in the mess hall since his easily sunburned skin kept him from doing much outside in the blazing sun.

"What're you doing out here?" Matthew asked as Gilbert reached him in the middle of the field.

"I was coming out to ask you the same thing," Gilbert said. "You weren't at dinner, and Alfred thought you'd gotten eaten by something, but he was too chicken to come get you." He mumbled something, but covered it up with a cough. "So what're _you_ doing out here?"

Matthew shrugged. "Looking for missing arrows and stuff. I didn't notice it was so late." He looked up. The moon hung low in the inky black sky and the stars were already bright and shining. Matthew figured it was around ten. "Wanna head back to the cabin?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of raiding the kitchen to get you something to eat," Gilbert said. "You must be starved."

Matthew was about to shake his head and decline the offer, but his stomach decided upon that exact moment to growl. He blushed and sniggered. "All right, I guess that sounds good. What was dinner?"

"Fried chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans. It was really good. I made the potatoes," Gilbert said proudly. "Oh, and cookies for dessert."

Matthew didn't know how he hadn't noticed his hunger before, because now the only thing on his mind was digging into what sounded like would be the best meal he'd gotten since he started working at the camp. His mouth literally watered.

Gilbert turned on a flashlight and led the way down the path to the mess hall. Crickets chirped their summer calls and various nocturnal birds and mammals scurried around in the underbrush. It was past lights out, and the cabins remained dark and silent as they passed by. When they arrived at the mess hall, Gilbert rummaged around in his pocket until he found the key. He held it up with a conspiratorial smile before unlocking the door. Matthew counted himself lucky to have such a great friend who would help him sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night just because he'd missed dinner.

The pair made their way for the giant fridge, which Gilbert opened as silently as possible even though they were the only ones in the building, and there was the motherload of leftovers. Matthew grabbed the first container he saw (a pot full of mashed potatoes) and a spoon and started in on his late dinner. And man, Gilbert wasn't lying about it being good. Even cold, the potatoes were the perfect combination of chunky and creamy and salty. Gilbert snickered and asked if Matthew wanted to at least heat them up, but Matthew refused. He was too hungry to care.

While Matthew was eating, Gilbert opened up a cabinet filled to the brim with candy. Matthew's eyes widened.

"What on earth is that?" he asked through a mouthful of potatoes, so it sounded more like "Fwah ah erf ish thah?"

"Confiscated candy," Gilbert answered, taking down a bowl and ripping open a pack of Skittles. "Kids'll never learn, not that I'm complaining." He shook some of the fruity candy into his open palm and ate it. He held out the package. "Want some?"

Matthew shook his head no. He was starting to get full and sleepy from all the potatoes he was eating; starch does that to you. Gilbert shrugged and gave a smile that said "suit yourself" before popping more Skittles into his mouth.

The refrigerator kicked on and hummed, breaking whatever silence there could have been in the great kitchen. Matthew stayed quiet and took one last bite of potatoes before putting the pot back into the fridge. Gilbert finished off his Skittles and put the bowl of candy back, too. The grandfather clock in the dining area chimed eleven.

Matthew thought that this was probably the most peaceful moment he'd had at camp so far in his three weeks of working.

Peaceful, that is, until Gilbert decided to do something weird.

He had been subtle; Matthew gave him that much. He hadn't even noticed Gilbert gradually stepping a little bit closer every minute. He'd disguised himself with pretending to go through different drawers and cabinets, and before Matthew realized what was happening, Gilbert was right next to him, his hand dangling at his side and brushing against Matthew's. The blond's breath caught in his throat as Gilbert threaded his fingers between Matthew's.

"Um..." Matthew's heart pounded; a cold nervous sweat broke out on his forehead; a blush heated his face to the point where it was extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing. "What are you doing?" he mumbled over the background noise. Gilbert didn't say anything, but then again, Matthew wondered if there was anything that _needed _to be said. What he was doing was fairly obvious. It was the why that puzzled him.

"I kind of like you, okay?" Gilbert blurted, ducking his head to hide a blush that was slowly creeping up on his pale face. When Matthew didn't say anything, he continued: "I've liked you since pretty much the first week, but I was too stupid and chicken to tell you about it. And…" Gilbert's confidence seemed to take a nosedive, and he jerked his hand away. "And… sorry. Because you're probably straight and this is probably really weird for you and I get it if you wanna switch bunks or something now but I just thought that hey you're my friend and I should tell you this even though it probably ruins everything—"

"Um, Gilbert?"

"—but I really can't believe you haven't caught on yet because I've been blatantly flirting with you for the past two weeks now—"

"Gilbert?"

"— I mean even your brother's figured it out and he's been giving me dirty looks lately and did you seriously think that I would sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night for just _anyone?_ I can be thoughtful and shit, but that's really pushing it, yanno—"

"Gilbert, shut up!"

He did.

Matthew relaxed against the kitchen counter and simply stared at Gilbert in disbelief. "You actually like me?"

Gilbert nodded, still keeping his gaze locked on the floor.

"Even though you thought I was straight?"

"You mean you're not?"

"Gil, look at me."

Gilbert looked.

"Maybe I should have said this earlier on, because we're friends, and friends tell each other things like this," Matthew said slowly. "But when I told my parents, they reacted… badly." He left it at that, unwilling to go into detail. "I've never told anybody else. I didn't really know how. But now I guess it's okay, because…" He trailed off.

"Because?" Gilbert egged on. "Because what?"

"I like you, too," Matthew admitted.

The refrigerator stopped humming at that moment, and for a while, there was absolute silence. Then, the biggest smile Matthew had ever seen stretched across Gilbert's face.

"You mean it?"

"Of course."

"You'd date me?"

"Yeah."

"Even though my hair and eyes and skin is weird?"

Matthew huffed. "I don't see what that has to do with anything, but yes."

"Can I kiss you?"

Matthew's composure broke down at that and he spluttered, blushing. "I-I-um, I don't think..."

Gilbert ignored his embarrassment, though, and, gaining his confidence back, leaned over to place a kiss on Matthew's lips. He tasted like Skittles and sweat and mint toothpaste and somehow the combination wasn't terrible. Gilbert pulled away, and even though the kiss had been quick, Matthew was left breathless—far more breathless than any kiss he'd ever had before had left him.

Neither one really knew what to do after that. Matthew hoped that things wouldn't turn awkward, because he really did like Gilbert. He was just at a loss as to what to do now that he knew Gilbert felt the same. Some part of him felt like he should explain why he liked Gilbert, but another part told him that that would be cheesy and stupid.

The clock chimed fifteen minutes after.

"We should get back to the cabin before people get suspicious," Matthew said. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure people are already suspicious," he said. "But you're right. I'm tired, anyway. Shoulda been asleep an hour ago..." With that, he yawned and took Matthew's hand and led him out of the kitchen, turning off lights as he went. "Are you gonna tell anybody?"

Matthew shut the door to the mess hall behind him and stepped aside so Gilbert could relock it. "I guess. Alfred deserves to know, and you have friends here you want to tell, I think." He let his hand find its way to Gilbert's once again, and they started down the path to the staff cabin. "But in the morning, right? I'm not waking people up for this, Gil."

Gilbert laughed quietly. "Of course not," he said. "In the morning, then."

Matthew smiled and squeezed Gilbert's hand lightly. What was happening to him almost seemed surreal. This sort of thing only happened to girls and boys in romantic comedies, and yet here he was, living it. They would sneak into the cabin and get to bed, and in the morning there would be talk about the two counselors who were out so late at night doing who-knows-what, and Alfred would be told about his brother's new relationship and be undoubtedly overprotective to the point where he would threaten to throw Gilbert into the lake if he didn't treat his little brother well. Things would be hectic and weird for a while, but they would calm down eventually. And maybe over the course of the next few weeks, the mutual liking would deepen into something stronger.

Matthew was looking forward to every second of it.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I wanted to write a longer chapter to say thanks for 300 reviews! I really never expected this to get so much attention, but I'm so happy it did. Even though it's embarrassing to look back on the first chapter and how I used to write, I'm proud that I've grown so much over the course of sixty chapters, and only hope to improve. Your reviews give me so much motivation, and I can't help but feel a little popular ^^_

_Thank you, everyone!_

_(I've been really loaded with homework this semester, though. I don't have much time to write. I hope you'll forgive me for more spaced-out chapters!)_

_~Jel_


	62. Versus

"All right, you bitch. It's just you and me, now," Gilbert growled, panting beneath the bright winter sun. "You're goin' down!"

In his hands he wielded a sturdy snow shovel, and his enemy took the form of a thick patch of ice and slush encasing the driveway. He'd been chipping away at the hazard little by little for almost thirty minutes, and was working up a sweat even in the freezing temperature. He angled the head of the shovel against the seam between ice and pavement and heaved against the handle with all his might. The ice finally gave a little, and Gilbert gave a victory cry.

It was then that he slipped on the ice behind him and fell flat on his back into the pile of snow and ice behind him, knocking the breath out of his lungs. The shovel fell to the ground with a loud clatter as Gilbert cursed at the snow and the ice and the ground and the worthless piece of shit shovel and the contradicting hot and cold and at the ice again and even Matthew as he walked outside trying to contain his laughter. Gilbert sat up and kindly flipped him off with one hand while brushing his clothes off with the other. Matthew snickered.

"Having trouble?" he asked sweetly, extending a helping hand.

"Fuck you," Gilbert retorted, but accepted Matthew's help anyway and was jerked up by the strong former hockey player. "I can't get the ice up. It's too thick."

"If you would listen to me for once, this wouldn't happen," Matthew sighed. "What did I tell you before you came out here?"

"Hell if I know."

"I told you to leave the ice alone and we'll sprinkle salt on it to melt it," Matthew (apparently) repeated. "Then we can just shovel the slush."

Gilbert didn't say anything, but he did pick up the shovel and rested it on his shoulder like a soldier with a rifle. He scowled down at the ice. "You may have won this time," he said, "but I'll be back!" He turned towards the house and added: "With salt!" And with that he marched into the house with all of the stature of a well-trained soldier.

Matthew just rolled his eyes and followed Gilbert.

* * *

_A/N: Based on my epic struggle with shoveling ice out of the driveway yesterday. My arms hurt now._

_~Jel_


	63. Heartfelt Apology

It was one of those strangely homey funeral homes with plush carpet and soft chairs and couches and the kinds of framed paintings you would normally see hanging at your grandmother's house. The walls and furnishings went together in warm hues of deep burgundy and orange and yellow. It felt so comfortable that it was almost unreal to think that in the very same building laid a cold corpse, sleeping deeply and permanently in a shiny casket.

The line to see him wasn't very long, as not many people had attended the event. The entire school had been invited, but only his closest friends and family had shown up. There was Francis and Arthur and Alfred, all dressed in their best black suits. His mother cried over him, his father comforting her the best that he could. Various other more distant relatives like grandparents and aunts and cousins were there, too, and everyone was very solemn and withdrawn.

And then there was Gilbert. Gilbert, dressed in black slacks and button-down shirt and a red tie, because red had been his favorite color. Gilbert the freak, with white hair and pale skin and red-tinted eyes that everybody but the boy in the casket seemed to shun. Gilbert who was next and last in line to say his goodbyes to the sleeping young man.

Everybody before him had said such normal farewells. There were prayers and tears, bitter laughter and the ever creepy _I'll see you again someday_'s, but not one person had said what Gilbert wanted to, and so for a moment he just looked at him, debating whether or not he should really say what he felt. All eyes were on him, and so without really thinking, he started talking.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I'm sorry for being so stupid and running that red light. I'm sorry for kind of being a jerk to you when we first met back in middle school. I'm sorry you never made many friends. I'm sorry that you had such a short run." Gilbert paused to swallow and fight back tears. Once he was composed again, he continued: "But it was a good run, yeah?" He tried to smile, and found his lips curving up more easily than was probably proper. "I feel lucky that I was able to be friends with you. You've made the past six years really great, yanno?" His smile fell as his eyes swept over the boy's pale face, his blond curls, his thin glasses perched upon his nose. "I hope you didn't have any regrets," he mumbled. "I do. Have regrets, I mean. I was always putting it off. I wanted to tell you something important, but I was too scared. And now that it's too late… I regret it so much." He couldn't stop it, now. The tears he'd been holding back fell at last.

"I loved you, Matthew."

There were a few astonished gasps from the few people who had been listening to Gilbert's apostrophe, but other than that his confession went ignored.

"So I just want to apologize for never telling you," he said, and bowed his head. The minister approached and Gilbert knew he'd drawn it out long enough. He went back to his seat as the minister took his place in front of Matthew's casket and began the eulogy.

Gilbert couldn't listen to it, and cried silently in the back of the room.

* * *

_A/N: I'm glad so many of you liked that fluffy happy chapter last time! It almost makes me feel bad for writing this!_

_... Almost._

_I made myself cry while writing this, dammit. Brought back bad memories..._

_WELL. I won't make you listen to me lament over the past. Until next time, over and out!_

_~Jel_


	64. Luck

Gilbert dug through his musty closet with a garbage bag almost full of unneeded things behind him. There were old shoeboxes and holey socks and ratty boots that would never be used or worn again. He was pretty sure that last pair of underwear had been growing mold. He grabbed randomly at small boxes full of worthless junk and merely glanced at the labels before chucking them into the bag. It was high time he did his spring cleaning, and for once he had somebody to help him. His boyfriend, Matthew, was in the bathroom scrubbing away at the shower (bless his soul) while Gilbert had reign of the bedroom.

He grabbed at another box and almost threw it away, but stopped and did a double-take at the lid. There was no label, no markings, no nothing to tell him what was inside. He shook it and heard the jingling of metal clinking together. Jewelry, perhaps? But he didn't own any jewelry!

He blew off the dust and took off the lid, curious as to what was inside.

His breathing stopped. Years of suppressed memories hit him like a ton of bricks as he lifted the metal tags hanging from a chain from the box.

"Gil, I finished the shower!" He heard Matthew's voice get closer. "Is there something I can do now—?" He stopped, likely because he had seen what Gilbert was holding. "… Are those dog tags?"

Gilbert threw the chain back into the box in an attempt to hide the evidence of his past, but it was too late. Matthew had seen.

"Whose are those?"

_My father's, my grandfather's, my brother's._ Any of those excuses would have worked. But then there would be questions, and Matthew would want to see the tags more closely, revealing the true owner, and Gilbert didn't want to be caught in a lie.

"Mine," he confessed, closing the box quickly. "From a while ago. It's no big deal."

"How come you never told me you were in the military?" Matthew asked. Gilbert pushed the box back into the closet, feeling guilty about not saying anything, even though they had been dating for nearly two months now.

"… I don't like to remember it," Gilbert whispered, running his left hand over the box. Matthew's eyes widened. He seemed to understand.

"Is that why…?" He trailed off, but Gilbert knew what he meant and nodded.

"Yeah. I wasn't born like this, if that's what you were thinking," Gilbert said, and flexed the remaining fingers on his left hand. "I was stationed in Iraq and somebody shot me in the hand."

Matthew knelt down and moved like he wanted to get the box back out, but then he stopped. "I'm sorry," he said. Gilbert snorted.

"What're you sorry for? 's not your fault."

"I know it's not," Matthew said. He paused and leaned against Gilbert, holding him in a hug. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No," Gilbert retorted immediately, but very quickly regretted it. Truth be told, he wanted to talk about it. He wanted to get his past off of his chest, to let somebody help carry the burden of the knowledge that he'd killed several men. At the same time, however, he didn't want to put that burden on Matthew. Not yet. He loved him too much.

"Gilbert, you're crying," Matthew said softly, reaching up to wipe the tears that were running down his cheeks. Gilbert hurried to scrub at the tears he didn't realize he's been shedding and tried to suck it up, but he couldn't help it. A broken sob escaped him, and for the first time in a very long time, Gilbert Beilschmidt cried into the shoulder of a loved one.

"Shh, Gil, it's okay…" Matthew murmured, rubbing Gilbert's back in soothing circles. "Everything is okay now. You can tell me when you're ready, but until then, I'm here for you."

He'd never felt so lucky to have somebody to hold in his moments of weakness.

* * *

_A/N: This is the prequel to chapter twenty-three. I didn't think I would expand on this AU at all, but I guess so. If anyone's curious about what else is in that box, let me list its contents:_

_One pair of military ID tags on a ball chain_

_One Purple Heart medal_

_Twenty-three dollars and eight cents worth of Iraqi change_

_One pocket-sized Bible (dog-eared and faded)_

_Two shotgun shells (empty)_

_One pencil (broken)_

_One journal (mostly unused)_

_Sorry for the more serious and sad themes as of late. I'll try to write a happy chapter soon._

_I hope you enjoyed :)_

_~Jel_


	65. Impressions

"I AM ZEE MOST AWESOME!" Canada yelled at the top of his lungs (which still wasn't very loud, but you get the idea) and put his hands on his hips in a triumphant stance. "KNEEL TO ME, PRAISE ME UND CRY!"

"Hey!" Prussia cried, trying to hold back laughter. "My accent isn't that thick, is it?"

"Ja, it totally is!" Canada said, dropping his voice and making it gravelly so it would be even more accurate. "Zis is zee vhey you speak to everybody!"

Prussia was grinning like a fool. "Oh yeah? Well two can play at that game!"

"I'd like to see you try," Canada said, bringing his voice back to normal tone and volume.

Prussia frowned and looked down at the ground. He muttered softly to himself. Canada raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

Prussia just mumbled more and wouldn't raise his voice loud enough for Canada to hear. It was then that the blond figured out what he was doing, and slapped Prussia playfully on the arm. "Jerk! I'm not that quiet!"

"I'm Canadia!" Prussia whisper-shouted. "I'm a total pushover and one of my provinces is almost completely French and I say eh after every sentence, eh?!" Canada found himself chuckling along with Prussia's act. "I bathe in maple syrup and I live in an igloo and ride my moose to work, eh!"

The pair dissolved into fits of giggles and continued doing their worst impressions of each other, both aware that neither really meant the stereotypes and insults thrown.

"My name is Prussia," Canada said, "and I'm fucking mein best friend's ex-colony!"

"And my name is Canada, eh?" Prussia retorted. "I'm fucking the dead Kingdom of Prussia, eh!"

"I call necrophilia!"

"I call pedophilia!"

And then Canada grinned, and Prussia grinned, and they laughed together until their sides hurt.

* * *

_A/N: Happy chapter this time!_

_~Jel_


	66. Teenager

"Gil, I brought your homework assignments. Are you feeling better?" Matthew toed off his shoes at the door like he did almost every day after school. Gilbert's house felt almost too quiet, so he assumed that Ludwig and his grandfather were out doing something. He hitched his backpack up higher on his back and wandered further into the house. "Gilbert?" he called again. "Are you sleeping or something?"

"Matt! You're here!" Gilbert said from somewhere in the house. His voice sounded pretty raspy, so Matthew guessed he really had been sick. "I'm in the living room! Look at this!"

So Matthew went to the living room.

His jaw dropped along with his backpack at what he saw, although honestly, he should have expected nothing less from Gilbert.

"You made a pillow fort?"

It was a massive thing, with countless pillows and blankets and cushions and comforters and stuffed animals and anything else that was soft. It was igloo-esqe in design, with a short tunnel that seemed to open up to the main structure that was supported in the back by the couch to give it height. Matthew had no doubts that Gilbert was curled up deep within with only the very softest and warmest blankets and stuffed animals he could find.

"Yeah!" Matthew heard Gilbert say from inside. "Like it? It uses every pillow and blanket in the whole house!"

"You're an adult, Gilbert."

"I refuse to be an adult. I'm still eighteen, so it's allowed."

"Your grandpa's gonna kill you when he sees this," Matthew said, but the threat was lighthearted as he was trying to hold back a giddy smile. "Can I come in?"

"Nope!" Gilbert said. "Password first!"

Matthew rolled his eyes, but complied. "Is it… Gilbert is awesome?"

"Nope! Try again!"

"Ludwig is an unfun stick in the mud?"

"Access denied."

"School sucks. Prussia is a country. I'm an idiot."

"All true; nice try, but no bananas!"

"Can I have a hint?"

Gilbert hummed from within the conglomeration. "It starts with the letter I."

Matthew sighed. "That's not much of a hint at all."

"You've never said it to me before, but I've heard you say it to your family sometimes."

"I hate you?" Matthew guessed. Gilbert laughed.

"Close! But I think you've said that to me before. Think opposites."

Matthew blinked. Opposites? But the opposite of hate was…

"Oh." He blushed.

"Figure it out?" Gilbert sang.

"I... love you?" Matthew said uncertainly.

"Good!" Gilbert affirmed. "Now, with more confidence!"

Matthew smiled and crouched down to prepare to enter the fort. "I love you, Gilbert."

"Ding ding ding! Access granted! You may enter."

Matthew crawled in on his hands and knees, chuckling to himself when he finally made it into the igloo. The pillows and blankets were excellent insulators, he noted, and Gilbert's apparent fever only added to the hot interior. It was dark, but the soft light of a laptop screen glowed from deep in the blankets. By that light, Matthew saw the wildly mismatched colors of some of the blankets nearby and Gilbert's flushed face and his messy, unbrushed hair.

"You did all of this by yourself?" Matthew asked, remembering his many failures he'd endured as a child trying to build a properly standing fort. "What have you been doing all day?"

"Building this," Gilbert answered simply. "And Tumblr and YouTube and sleeping." He lifted a blanket so that Matthew could snuggle under. "I must say, it was a day well-spent."

"Seems like it," Matthew agreed, curling up under the covers and not caring if Gilbert's sickness was contagious. He was warm and soft and lovely in the dim light, and Matthew groped around until he found Gilbert's hand to hold. "If you're tired, though, you should get rest."

"Dun' wanna..." Gilbert mumbled, though he was clearly tuckered out. "I wanna stay up and kiss you and hold you..." The yawn that interrupted him at that moment made him sound slightly less serious and ten times as cute. Matthew couldn't help but laugh.

"I'll hold you and give you a goodnight kiss, but you still need to sleep," Matthew compromised.

Gilbert seemed to mull over the offer before finally shutting off his laptop and putting his head down. "Fine... Time for sleepsy-sleeps..."

Matthew held back a new bout of laughter, and, as promised, scooted over to hold Gilbert in a firm hug. His boyfriend dozed, and Matthew tried not to think of the pile of homework he'd have to do when he got home as he slowly fell asleep next to Gilbert in the warm, safe nest of blankets.

* * *

_A/N: Look._

_Look at how literally fluffy this is._

_Same universe as: Introduction, Unbreakable, 33 Percent, Excuses, Vengeance, Seeing Red, and Future._

_Last night, I was really tired and for some reason I said, "Time for sleepsy-sleeps." Out loud. I thought it would be adorkable if Gilbert said that, and thus, this chapter was born._

_Please excuse me while I bash my head against the wall because of the shocking amount of HOMEWORK I have yet to complete while writing this._

_~Jel_


	67. Irregular Orbit

"Orion, Capricorn, Pegasus," Matthew recited, pointing up to groups of seemingly random flecks of light high up in the sky. "Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, obviously, and at the end of the ladle on Ursa Minor is Polaris, or the North Star."

"Obviously," Gilbert echoed, though in all honesty, he had no clue what Matthew was talking about. The North Star rang a familiar bell, though, and so, in an attempt to sound smart, commented: "All of the stars orbit the North Star, right? That's why it stays put in the sky?"

Matthew rolled over in the slightly damp grass to look at Gilbert. "Um. No," he said, hesitant to correct the albino. "It just looks like it. Polaris is lined up almost perfectly with the Earth's rotation, so it looks like all of the other stars orbit it."

"Okay," Gilbert mumbled, feeling embarrassed that he'd said something stupid.

"It makes for really cool pictures of star trails, though," Matthew continued, not noticing Gilbert's embarrassment. "When all of the stars are circling around that one point... It's breathtaking." Matthew smiled and looked back up at the sky with a look of awe.

Gilbert hummed, trying and failing to understand as Matthew started to ramble more about the sky. His mind was on other things, like the fact that Matthew's attention had once again been stolen from him by the stars...

* * *

_A/N: Same universe as Rivalry (4) and Everything for You (56)._

_Star trails look really cool. You should look up some pictures to see what Matthew's talking about._

_I'm not that knowledgeable about the constellations, but I wish I was. I can't even find the Little Dipper! :(_

_~Jel_


	68. Cold Embrace

"It's too cold."

"Says the guy wearing nothing but boxers and socks."

"Hug me?"

"… Fine."

* * *

_A/N: I may or may not regret this later._

_Don't do drugs, kids._

_~Jel_


	69. Frost

"It's okay, it's okay. Don't look down. Just look at me."

Matthew's blood was running colder than the water beneath him separated by a thin sheet of cracking ice.

"Gilbert, I'm scared."

"I know, I know," Gilbert said, trying to take a step forward to get within arm's reach of Matthew. The ice cracked further beneath his weight, but he tried not to panic. "You're gonna be all right. You're not gonna fall in. Uh… We're gonna have a little fun instead!"

"That's bullshit and you know it, Gilbert!" Matthew cried. "Get away from here before you fall in, too!"

Another crack split in the ice.

"Would I trick you?"

"Yes, because you're a snarky bastard!"

Gilbert laughed. "Well… uh… not this time! I promise, I promise. You're gonna be… you're gonna be fine. You have to believe in me."

Matthew's eyes widened and he let out a breath.

"You wanna play a game?" Gilbert asked. "We're gonna play hopscotch!"

Matthew blinked. He blinked again. And again. And finally his brows furrowed in a furious frown.

"Have you been quoting Rise of the Guardians this whole time?!"

Gilbert froze. "Um… no?"

"Yes you have!" Matthew cried. "Gilbert, this is serious! I could die and you're quoting a fucking kid's movie!"

"You're not gonna die, Mattie!"

"I actually could, Gilbert! I'm gonna fall and drown in this freezing pond because you did nothing but quote a movie—"

"Mattie, the water's only like two feet deep!"

"Irrelevant!"

"Hopscotch, Mattie! Hopscotch! Just jump over! It's not even cracking that much!"

Matthew scowled and jumped over to a more solid patch of ice. Gilbert followed.

"… I don't think you realize just how much I hate you right now."

"Love ya, too, Mattie."

* * *

_A/N: This was going to be sad but then it wasn't._

_~Jel_


	70. A Moment in Time

"Do you ever miss your brother, Mattie?"

Matthew hummed and twisted his ring around his finger absently. "Sometimes," he admitted. "Most of the time I really like it here. And I like being here with you, Gil."

"But you miss them. Your family," Gilbert said.

"Do you miss Ludwig?"

"Of course I do," Gilbert said. "He's my little brother. And I miss Antonio and Francis and…" He paused. "I guess I even miss Roderich, too. I don't really think about it that much."

"It makes you sad to think about it."

"Yeah."

It was quiet for a moment, save for the wind and the wildlife around them in their little world. Matthew interrupted it.

"Do you want to see them?"

"Of course I do," Gilbert said again. "But we can't."

"Why not?"

"You heard the angel. We stay here for all of eternity."

"He also said we could do pretty much anything we want."

"He said we could _make_ anything we want."

"Who says we can't make a portal to another world…?" Matthew said, getting an idea. He grinned. "We could just _make_ a portal or door or whatever to where your brother is!"

Gilbert opened his mouth to retort, but then shut it again.

"I found a loophole! Admit it!"

"… I guess it wouldn't hurt to try…"

Matthew's grin widened and he stood, dragging Gilbert up with him. "Then it's settled! We'll do it now!"

A door appeared before them (likely Matthew's doing), and Matthew reached out to turn the knob, but Gilbert stopped him.

"Wait! Matthew, stop."

Matthew stopped and looked at Gilbert.

"What? What's wrong?"

"What if…" Gilbert mumbled, "What if we see something we shouldn't? What if something terrible happens and we can never come back? Everything here will miss us while we're gone."

Matthew moved his hand away from the knob. He seemed to be thinking twice about it. But then a slow smile spread across his face, and he held Gilbert's hand.

"It's fine. We'll just be gone a moment. I promise."

He opened the door.

* * *

_A/N: I wonder what they found on the other side._

_Part of the Eternity AU. Other chapters in this AU include 7, 9, and 26. _

_Thanks to seqka711 for some ideas on this chapter :)_

_~Jel_


	71. Dangerous Territory

"Mother Hen to Eagle Eye, Mother Hen to Eagle Eye, do you copy? Over," Gilbert murmured to the small yellow bird perched on his left shoulder. The bird chirped.

Gilbert pretended it meant, "Copy that, Mother Hen. Do you have visual? Over."

"I have visual of the target. Permission to fire? Over."

"Not yet. Wait until he's within range. Over."

"Understood. Over."

Gilbert rolled two handfuls of particularly fat and heavy acorns in his hands, staring down intently at the sidewalk below where a boring-looking man in a suit walked leisurely past.

"Now?"

"Now!"

Gilbert grinned and dropped all of the acorns at once from his position sprawled on a tall tree branch onto Target Suit Guy. Some of the acorns hit leaves and went off-course on the way down, but most reached their destination, hitting the man on the head and finding their way down his clothes. Target Suit Guy jumped in surprise and did a funny dance trying to get the acorns out of his tucked shirt. Gilbert cackled loudly in the treetop, and Target Suit Guy sent the tree a nasty look before moving on with acorns falling from the legs of his pants. Footsteps came from the opposite direction, and a voice spoke:

"Gilbert?"

"Halt!" Gilbert yelled as he collected more ammunition from the nearby branches. "Who goes there? Trespassers will be hit ruthlessly with acorns and laughed at!"

"Gilbert, why are you in the tree?"

"State your identity and the password or else defensive measures will be taken!"

"Gil, it's Matthew, and I know you already knew that. Now get down from there before you break your neck!"

"BZZT! Wrong password! Brace yourself, intruder, for the wrath of many small but painful tree eggs hitting you in the head and other various parts of your body!"

"What? Gilbert, no—ouch! Gil-ow! Stop it! Ouch! GILBERT WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP THAT FOR LIKE FIVE SECONDS—OW!"

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the dreadfully late update. I've been going through the motions of having a life. And crying over math because math is hard and I don't like it._

_~Jel_


	72. Boundaries

They had been teetering on an edge for years now. A cliff of sorts. Maybe a boundary is a better metaphor, though. Yes; a solid brick wall with a thick metal door that can't be seen past, and once you open the door and cross the boundary, you're locked on the other side forever. You're stuck in an unknown world without the slightest clue as to where you'll go next, and this new world could either be beautiful and good, or horrifying and sad.

Because that's what falling in love is like, after all. Isn't it?

That's what Matthew thought it would be like, anyway.

Yes, he'd been with Gilbert in front of that door for years, far too afraid to reach out and turn the knob. The door wasn't locked yet, but he was quite certain that it would lock once he crossed over, and he might not like what was in store.

But the brick wall around the door stretched on for miles and miles in all directions, and the top was lined with razor wire, and there didn't seem to be any way to go forward in life without going through the door.

So one day, Matthew decided to open the door. Just a crack. Just so he could catch a glimpse of what was there.

Little did he know that Gilbert would push him and join him in the strange new world.

* * *

_A/N: Extended metaphor...?_

_Wow, RuneScape is addicting._

_~Jel_


	73. Unsettling Revelations

Gilbert Beilschmidt didn't go through an existential angst as a teenager. At least, not in the way you'd think most teenagers would. It wasn't a sudden, overwhelming realization that in the huge and grand universe he was simply an atom of silicon in a grain of sand on a vast beach which was only one very small and insignificant beach compared to all of the other thousands of beaches on Earth, which, in turn, is only one of millions, billions, perhaps trillions of planets in the Milky Way Galaxy, which is only one of who-knows-how-many other galaxies in the entire rest of the living universe—

No Gilbert didn't go through one of _those_, because all throughout his life he'd had people tell him that it wasn't all about him. He'd always had a feeling—a hunch, if you will—that there were more important things out there than himself. How could he be so insanely selfish when all he had to do was look up and see the countless stars and solar systems and potential Earth-like planets that were far more important than his own tiny, miserable self?

He didn't angst over it, though. He didn't feel depressed. He didn't cry. He didn't curse and get angry at the world because he just knew that that was the way things were—the way they had always been. He kept his confidence up, lived his life happily, because unless the Buddhists were right (which would be hella cool, by the way), this was his only one. Why waste time being sad over things he would never fully understand or control when he could be awesome instead?

He was young. He had time. Time to live, time to love, time to have fun.

He could do all three with Matthew, and he wondered if he could teach his philosophy to the guy if he ever went through an existential crisis.

* * *

_A/N: I noticed that not many people seemed to understand the last chapter. Just drop me a PM if you have questions :)_

_More philosophical stuff. Woot._

_~Jel_


	74. Shattered

"You got fired again?!"

"Eh, the boss was a dick," Gilbert said offhandedly as he popped the tab on another can of beer and took a long swig. "I didn't need that job anyway."

"But Gilbert, you _do_ need that job!" Matthew fumed. "You need any job you can get! I work my ass off with two jobs just to keep our finances straight, and you think it's okay to just not try? Is this a joke to you?"

Gilbert frowned, finishing off his beer. He went from the living room to the kitchen to get another out of the fridge. Matthew followed him and blocked his path when he tried to go back to the living room.

"Don't avoid me, Gilbert. We're talking about this right now."

"What's there to talk about?" Gilbert snapped. "I lost my job, big deal! Happens to everybody!"

"This is the third time in the past two months!"

"So you're saying I don't try?"

"It sure doesn't look like you do!"

"Getting fired is my own fault, is that what you're saying?"

Matthew sighed. "I'm not saying that…"

"Then what are you saying, huh?" Gilbert demanded. "It's obvious you've been thinking about this for a while! Go ahead! Say it!"

"I feel like I'm doing all of the fucking work around here, okay?!" Matthew exclaimed. Gilbert's eyes widened and he took a small step back. Matthew rarely got very pissed (this was only the third time he'd been so mad in their entire five-year partnership), but when he did, Gilbert knew that the best thing to do was to just back down and let the anger take its course.

Naturally, Gilbert never actually did that, but this time…

"You think so?" Gilbert said, trying to remain calm.

"Yes!" Matthew yelled. "I work at least seventy hours every week with night shifts and shitty coworkers and even shittier pay while you sit on your ass at home doing who knows what! You could be cheating on me for all I know because I'm never home!"

"I'm not cheating on you, Matthew," Gilbert said. "I would never do that to you." And it was the honest to God truth, but in his rage, Matthew couldn't understand that. He sneered.

"Oh, like _hell_ you wouldn't. I bet you're fucking Alfred."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. Now _this_ was getting ridiculous. "As if," he said. "Arthur scares the shit outta me, the possessive bastard…"

"So you're saying you _would_ if Arthur were out of the picture?!"

Gilbert had had about enough of this. The argument that had started out on jobs had turned to questioning his fidelity, and Gilbert wasn't having any of it. He sighed and stormed over to the counter and grabbed his car keys as Matthew looked on in confusion. "I'm going for a drive," Gilbert explained flatly. "You need to cool down."

"_I_ need to cool down?!" Matthew protested. Gilbert didn't dignify his words with a response and walked out the front door and into the night, making a point not to slam it. He didn't immediately go to the car, though. Instead, he slid down the door and pressed his ear to the wood, straining to hear what was going on inside. He heard shuffling… there was the sound of porcelain against porcelain…

He jumped when he felt and heard a plate shatter against the door.

* * *

Thirty minutes of aimless driving later, Gilbert decided it was time to go back. He didn't feel guilty about leaving. He knew it was the best thing in this sort of situation to go away for just a little while, to let things blow over, and then he could return and talk rationally.

Which was strange, because Matthew was usually the rational one.

He rolled into the driveway at eleven. The porch light was off, and the windows were dark. Gilbert quietly snuck in the front door and felt his way down the hall to the bedroom. Everything was still and quiet. He cracked the door and peered inside, but couldn't see anything in the darkness.

Matthew stirred beneath the sheets.

"Mattie?" Gilbert whispered. "Are you asleep?"

"No," was Matthew's surprisingly clear response. "I'm awake."

Gilbert took that as an invitation to go in, and softly closed the door behind him.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm okay."

There was rustling in the near silence as Gilbert lifted the covers on his side of the bed and settled down without bothering to change into bed clothes.

"... I'm sorry," Matthew mumbled.

"It's all right."

"No, it's not. I shouldn't have gotten so angry."

"It happens to everyone," Gilbert said, realizing too late that he'd used the same words in an argument not an hour earlier. Matthew didn't seem to notice. "I know why you're upset. I should be the one who's sorry."

"You can't help it if you lose your job, Gil. I didn't mean to say you don't do anything."

"Let's just both be sorry," Gilbert compromised, "and go to sleep, all right? We've both had hard days."

Gilbert heard Matthew nod in agreement against his pillow. He smiled, happy that things were calm once again, and fell into an easy and restful sleep.

* * *

_A/N: At first I was tempted to put a trigger warning, but then realized that I've written worse stuff than this without a warning and decided that would be silly._

_I wish I could say that this isn't based on anything, that it's purely fictional, but it's not. I didn't do this chapter justice. I couldn't. Nothing compares to the real life experience._

_~Jel_


	75. Bitter Silence

_I had a really great time tonight, Mattie, _Matthew read from the paper. He looked up at Gilbert's smiling face in the porch light and smiled, too.

_I had fun, too,_ Matthew wrote back. _Do you want to go out again?_

_Sure. Next Friday at eight sound good?_

_It's a date._

Gilbert's smile widened and he shuffled around from foot to foot, almost in an expectant manner. Matthew rolled his eyes and puckered his lips in invitation, knowing exactly what his boyfriend wanted. Gilbert leaned in to place a kiss on his lips and Matthew watched as he waved goodbye and went back to his car.

He didn't hear the car start up, even though Gilbert's car was pretty beaten up and didn't have a muffler. Even after the car was gone and there was relative quietness left behind, there still should have been the soft background noise of crickets chirping and dogs barking and wind blowing.

But there was nothing to Matthew. He'd been deaf ever since he was a child. He didn't mind most of the time, but sometimes it frustrated him. How sad to be able to hear and speak one day, and the next get kicked in the head, knocking out his hearing for what the doctors had said would be forever.

Sometimes he wished he could hear. He wished he could experience music again in a way that didn't involve reading the notes from a staff. Beethoven composed masterpieces despite his disability, but Matthew wasn't that talented. He wanted to hear the different way voices lilted and changed in tones when they talked about different things like he'd read about in books (because he hadn't really paid attention to that sort of thing as a child). Things like "her voice raised up at the end in indication of a question" or "he lowered his voice to a hushed whisper, as if there was a big secret to keep" made him want to know how people sounded when they talked.

Especially Gilbert. Oh, he wondered about that all the time! What did Gilbert sound like? Did his voice lilt like a girl's? Was he quiet? Was he loud? Did he have an accent like his parents told him? Was his voice deep and husky? Was it high and soft?

He knew it was no use wondering. He would never hear again. But that didn't keep him from hoping that one day he would be able to listen to Gilbert's voice for the first time instead of being trapped in this bitter silence.

* * *

_A/N: There will very likely be a sequel to this._

_~Jel_


	76. The True You

Matthew had never paid much attention to that Gilbert kid. Not because he wasn't noticeable (he most definitely _was_ noticeable, what with the black leather and stark white hair and pale red eyes and those scary chains and combat boots and ear piercings that made him stick out in a crowd like a punky sore thumb), but because he was just another person. He sat in the seat catty-corner to Matthew's in Algebra II, talked big to people twice his size sometimes, and ate with the other punks during lunch. He was just another person, and Matthew swore he never really paid that much attention to him.

Why he was in a classroom at five in the evening trying to tutor the guy was a complete mystery to Matthew. He blamed it on the fact that he was too damn nice for his own good and didn't want to turn down the teacher's request. Unsurprisingly, Gilbert didn't exactly seem enthralled by the prospect of staying at school so long after classes ended, and was entertaining himself by rocking back and forth in his desk and taking apart his pen.

"You probably remember this from Algebra I and Geometry, but I'll refresh you on it anyway. The quadratic equation will always work when factoring trinomials, so it's good to memorize… Gilbert, are you even listening?" Matthew huffed.

"Yeah, yeah, keep talking. I'm listening," Gilbert mumbled absently as he played with the spring from his clicky pen. He cursed when it slipped out of his fingers and went bouncing across the floor. Matthew rolled his eyes and slid a homework problem onto Gilbert's desk.

"If you know it all, then do this problem by plugging the numbers into the equation," he instructed.

Gilbert glanced at the paper, then at Matthew, then at the paper again before starting on the problem. Matthew was taken off-guard when not even ten seconds later, Gilbert completed the work and circled the correct answers. Matthew blinked. Gilbert smirked smugly.

"Weren't expecting that, were you?" Gilbert said.

"You…" Matthew frowned. "Why am I tutoring you if you can do this?!"

"I know the stuff, but I don't do my work," Gilbert said, leaning back in his seat again. "It's a waste of time if you ask me."

"But you're failing the class, so you need to do it," Matthew argued weakly, slowly coming to the realization that this wouldn't be tutoring so much as it would be babysitting. He groaned. "Just… please do your work, okay?"

Gilbert hummed, as if he had a choice in the matter, and swiped up his notebook. "How about I save homework for home, and do what I want now?" He flipped to a random page, and while Matthew definitely wasn't paying much attention or snooping or anything of the like, he could have sworn that he saw ponies.

Ponies. In the hardcore Gilbert Beilschmidt's notebook.

Clearly there was much more to Gilbert than he first thought.

* * *

_A/N: Can you imagine it, lovelies? Crazy, punk-obsessed, hardcore Gilbert on the outside. Lovable, smart, dorky brony on the inside._

_Cutie cutie cutie._

_~Jel_


	77. Pretense

"Gilbert, I told you to wear your oxfords. We're in a very nice restaurant!" Matthew hissed across the table.

"But these are my lucky shoes!" Gilbert protested, playfully nudging his worn red converse that he'd had ever since high school against Matthew's own nice dress shoes. They were completely at odds with his outfit, which consisted of black slacks and a blazer with a dark blue shirt underneath. Matthew was dressed similarly, but had on a red shirt. It would have matched Gilbert's shoes if the converse hadn't been faded and dirtied beyond recognition of the original shade of red. "Besides, _I_ made the reservation, so I can wear what _I_ want."

"You know it doesn't work like that. I'm surprised they even let you in here with those things on!"

"Would you stop worrying for five seconds and just enjoy tonight?" Gilbert said. "I wanted this to be special for us."

At that, Matthew calmed down and set to idly fiddling with the hem of the nice white tablecloth. "Fine," he said. "But I swear, when we get home tonight, I am _burning_ those things in the-"

"More wine, sirs?"

Gilbert grinned as the waiter interrupted Matthew and ordered two more glasses of wine for them. The waiter poured deep red (and expensive) alcohol into the crystal glasses before walking away to wait on another table.

"You were saying?" Gilbert said. Matthew frowned.

"I was wondering the same thing. You said this was special, but it's not our anniversary, and it's not my birthday," Matthew said. "What do you want?"

Gilbert cocked his head to the side innocently. "Can't I take my boyfriend out anywhere nice and not have my motives questioned?"

"No."

Gilbert knew that answer had been coming and laughed. "Okay, okay, you're right." He took a deep breath. "The real reason I took you out tonight is because I have something I want to ask you. It's a big commitment."

Matthew slowly raised an eyebrow. His heart beat a little more quickly. But no, he wasn't jumping to conclusions yet. "... You want to get another dog? That's hardly something to take me out to dinner over."

"No, no. It's something more important than a dog."

_More important than a dog. _That could be... No, there were lots of things more important than dogs. He could be talking about moving into a new house or something. Yes, that could be it. Or maybe he got a new job! A well-paying one that would be in a different state and he wanted to know if it would be okay to accept it and move with him. Matthew didn't want to play any guessing games, though. He wanted to know now.

"What is it?" he asked.

And suddenly, Gilbert pushed back his chair and got up to stand next to Matthew. He shifted his weight from foot to foot before dropping down to one knee and Matthew could have sworn that his heart stopped right then and there. He spluttered and blushed and tried not to cry but it was difficult when Gilbert was looking up so seriously and adoringly and... and...

"Gilbert...?" was all he managed to say. He was sure people were staring, but he really didn't care because his heart was beating at a hundred miles a minute and tears were pricking at his eyes and dear lord he was getting _proposed to_ and-

"I need to tie my shoelaces first," Gilbert said, doing up the frayed gray laces that had been white at some point.

Matthew blinked. His blush intensified, but it was out of anger and embarrassment. He clenched his fists and stood up.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt, how _dare_ you!"

"Aw, c'mon, Mattie, it was just a joke! The ring's in my pocket!"

"You bastard!"

"Babe, people are staring, calm down."

"AUGH!" Matthew cried, and stormed off, presumably for the bathroom. Gilbert laughed and followed him.

"Will you marry me?" Gilbert called after him.

"You're a bastard!"

"Is that a yes?"

Oh, they were so getting kicked out.

* * *

_A/N: I actually had to look up the definition of pretense. It means: __A false appearance or action intended to deceive._

___And then this happened._

___Gil, you're lucky you didn't get slapped._

___I can't wait for the wedding._

___~Jel_


	78. Patience

"Can I look now, Gil?"

"Shush, be patient. We're almost there."

"Can you at least take your hands off of my eyes? I promise I won't peek!"

"Sorry, Mattie. It's not that I don't trust you, but I don't trust you."

"Oh, yes, that makes sense, just like the time you… Are you _burning_ something?"

"I said you couldn't guess!"

"If you've accidentally burned our room down, I don't know what I'm gonna do to you but it won't be—"

"Okay, you can look now!"

Gilbert removed his hands from Matthew's face and Matthew was finally able to see what all the fuss was about. Gilbert opened the door to their bedroom with a wide grin. He was proud of whatever he'd done. Matthew took a tentative step into the dim room, and of all the things he'd expected, _this_ was definitely not one of them.

Dozens of little candles (the cheap little tea lights that you can get that have twenty in a bag for only a dollar, but they were still pretty) sat flickering around the room on every flat surface. There was no doubt in Matthew's mind that all of the fire was a serious hazard, but the candles gave a nice, glowing atmosphere. The room absolutely reeked of roses and cologne, and Matthew couldn't help but notice the rose petals scattered on the floor and over the bed. A few "adult" items rested conspicuously on the bedside table.

It was clear Gilbert had been hanging out with Francis lately.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Gilbert said.

Matthew stepped further into the room and scooped some petals from the bed into his hands, shaking his head and trying not to laugh as he continued to take in the holiday transformation. It was just so _cheesy_ and something completely unexpected of Gilbert to do. "You did this all by yourself?"

"Yup!" Gilbert said, then added as an afterthought: "Well, the roses were Francis's idea. And Toni suggested using tomatoes in some way, but that would have been really weird."

Matthew gave Gilbert credit for being wise enough not to go with Antonio's idea.

"Do you like it?"

And then Matthew turned around to see Gilbert with the most anxious expression on his face. He really wanted to know if Matthew liked all of the effort he'd gone through to set the entire room up like this. And honestly, Matthew wasn't objecting to the peaceful mood that seemed to radiate from the room and candles. He smiled and hugged Gilbert.

"Yes, Gil," he said. "I like it. It's very romantic."

Gilbert grinned. "Really? You think so?"

"I really do," Matthew said. And then he grinned slyly up at Gilbert, his eyes flickering over to the bedside table. "Now, I don't mean to get ahead of myself, but what exactly were you planning on doing in such a pretty room at night with just you and me…?"

* * *

_A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! (Or as I like to call it, "Singles Awareness Day." One day I hope it will be Valentine's Day for me, too... *dreamy stare*)_

_I thought I'd post a little special for the celebration of the death of Valentinus._

_~Jel_


	79. Midnight

"I love you a lot. You know that?" Gilbert said.

Matthew gave a weak smile and laughed a strained and airy laugh that sent him into a fit of coughing. "Yeah," he rasped when he finally got his lungs back under control. "I love you, too."

Gilbert gently squeezed his hand. His skin was thin and wrinkled; his fingers were shaky and cold.

Time does that to a person. That's mankind's worst enemy, time. It slows you down; it makes you weak; it takes your sight; it cripples your limbs. It was the same time kept by the ancient granddaughter clock in the hall. It chimed for a quarter 'till midnight.

"And you know that sixty years ago, when I said, 'until death do us part,' I meant it, right?" Gilbert asked.

"Yeah," Matthew said. His smile faded. "It sounds like you're saying goodbye."

"Shh, no, Mattie," Gilbert whispered. He reached across the bed and held onto his lifelong partner. "Never. I'm not saying goodbye."

"We're dying," Matthew mumbled. "But we did it." He smiled again. "We grew old together, Gil. Into a couple of sentimental old men, no less. Who'd have guessed?"

"I could have told you we would," Gilbert said, grinning.

"But you didn't. Back when we were young, you didn't think we'd make it this far, but we did."

"Bah, I was young and stupid."

Time also makes you wise. It makes you smarter. It is the greatest teacher. Sayings like "only time will tell" remain true throughout generations. It changes people for the better and for the worse.

"Even back then, though," Gilbert said, "I knew I wanted to be with you forever. I didn't think it would happen, but I wanted it."

"Nothing lasts forever," Matthew retorted. Gilbert shook his head.

"Sure it does. I'll love you forever. Forever and ever and ever. And not even death will change that."

Time doesn't stop. Other people do. When the first creature died on Earth, time did not stop. When the last creature dies on Earth, time will not stop. When all of the clocks in the world are broken and gone and nothing is left to keep it, time will keep going. Time treats everything the same.

"I just want to be here with you," Gilbert said after a long moment of silence.

"Until death do us part?" Matthew asked.

"I hear it's like falling asleep…"

"Until death do us part?" Matthew repeated. Gilbert smiled and held Matthew more tightly.

"Until death do us part."

And death did part them. At 11:58, Matthew's eyes closed. At 11:59, he struggled for breath. Gilbert's heart felt heavy in his chest, and a piercing pain struck him as it very suddenly stopped. The granddaughter clock serenaded them with her full song and chimed twelve times. Neither one breathed again.

They would meet again in just a little while, but that is a story for another time.

* * *

_A/N: I'm sorry if I made you cry._

_Based on something I read on Tumblr: Imagine your OTP dying peacefully in their sleep together, neither of them ever having to outlive the other._

_This happened. It wasn't peaceful, and they weren't asleep, but they were together in the end._

_~Jel_


	80. Shadows

"Gil, did you see that?"

"See what?"

Matthew could have sworn he saw something move. The yellowed curtains in the old house fluttered in the windows, but everything was closed up. It gave off a spooky aura even in the middle of the day.

"I thought you said this place was abandoned?"

"It is," Gilbert said. "You're just being paranoid. Fear and stimulus. It's making you see things."

"I'm _not _paranoid," Matthew grumbled. "And I'm not drugged, either. I'm being serious, so quit quoting Sherlock."

Gilbert smiled and shrugged as he jammed a key (it was under the mat—how obvious) into the front door's ancient lock, having to jiggle the handle and force it a little before the lock turned with a satisfying _clunk! _The door squeaked open, revealing the dusty inside of the Victorian style house.

"Jeez," Gilbert said as he took a step in. "Would you look at this place?"

Matthew looked. Everything was dusty and stale and still. Furniture covered in sheets dotted the front room. The wallpaper was peeling; the paint was chipping; the floorboards were rotting. It was obvious nothing here had been cleaned in years. Their shoes left footprints in the dust on the floor like snow. Everything was untouched and preserved to a fault. It was like stepping into the past.

"Hey, Mattie, look at this couch!" Gilbert removed a sheet from a long piece of furniture with a grand sweeping motion that sent dust billowing into the air. The pair coughed and sneezed, but when the dust settled again, they could see a fine, brown leather couch. At least, it would have been fine if it wasn't for the bits of stuffing poking through the cracks in the couch. The white sheets weren't enough to protect it from getting bleached by the sun, and what should have been rich, supple, brown leather was now splotchy and cracked from years of no care or use. Gilbert collapsed on it anyway, not seeming to mind that it could be infested with rats or bugs or something. "Sit with me!"

Matthew sat. His eyes wandered further around the room, prying and curious and poring over every little detail. As reluctant as he seemed, he was truly excited. He'd never been in an abandoned house before. The dust had probably been undisturbed for years. It was peaceful.

The dust was undisturbed... and that was why a particular trail of clean floor caught Matthew's attention.

"Hey, Gilbert," Matthew said, nudging his friend in the arm. "How long did you say this house had been abandoned?"

Gilbert hummed. "As long as I can remember. I moved in across the street when I was five, I think, so that's... twelve years at least. It looked old to begin with, so..." He trailed off.

"And nobody's ever set foot in here?"

"Nope. Not that I've seen. Why?"

Matthew pointed at the clean spot. It started from a window and stopped at a door. "Wouldn't everything be dirty in that case?"

"I guess." Gilbert stood up and walked over to the door. "Wanna check it out?"

"Sure." Matthew stood as well, following Gilbert. He most definitely did not get a bad feeling in his gut, thank you very much, and he was quite sure that there was nothing dangerous in this house.

Gilbert opened the door, and unlike the front, it didn't put up a fight. It came open easily as if it was regularly opened and closed. A set of steep stairs led up into the attic. There was no dust.

"Somebody's been going up and down these," Gilbert said, noticing the same thing Matthew did. "And they come through the window for some reason."

"Do you think they could still be here?"

Gilbert didn't say anything. Matthew's question was answered by a loud bump coming from upstairs.

Matthew held his breath, and he guessed that Gilbert did, too, trying to listen for the sound again. Something like the sound of claws clacking against wood filtered through the walls.

"... Do you still want to go up?" Matthew asked. Gilbert didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

Without knowing what was in store, the friends scaled the stairs. The door at the top opened easily. It was dark up there with no windows and no lights, so Matthew took out his phone to light the way in front of him like a flashlight.

Oh, how he regretted doing that. Regretted it with every fiber of his being.

Something had glinting black eyes. Matthew saw sharp teeth. Yellowed claws. Black, wrinkled skin covered in tufts of thin fur.

"Matthew," Gilbert whispered. _It_ let out a noise. A cross between a snarl, a growl, and a hiss. "You see it, too, right?"

It stepped forward.

"Yes, Gilbert," Matthew whispered back. "I see it."

"I'm not crazy."

"You're not crazy."

"Should we run?"

It took another step. But the most terrifying part was that something else moved in the shadows behind it. A chorus of growling and hissing erupted in the darkness. It wasn't the only one. It had company.

"Yes."

The pair nearly fell down the stairs in their mad scramble to get away. Anything to put distance between them and it. They slammed the attic door behind them, skidded across the floor, yanked open the front door, and all but collapsed onto the ground outside. Adrenaline throbbed in Matthew's veins and his heart refused to slow down. He'd never felt so close to death as he had in that one moment, but somehow, even though he was outside, he still didn't feel safe. The house was silent now, but it didn't eliminate the paranoia and fear that something would be coming. Something would find him again. Something would not let him get away so easily.

"So…" Gilbert panted, standing up and wiping his shaky, sweaty hands on his jeans. "We never speak of this to anyone. It didn't happen."

"It didn't happen," Matthew echoed. "It didn't happen."

But it did, and that was what scared them both.

* * *

_A/N: So guess who just watched every Sherlock episode in one day. Go ahead. Guess._

_Abrupt ending is abrupt. Let your imagination fill in what It looked like._

_~Jel_


	81. Summer Haze

"Matthew… Mattie, wake up."

Matthew rolled over in bed and groaned, not even bothering to crack an eye open to see what time it was. Something told him it was the middle of the night, though.

"Wake up!"

"Gil, no…" Matthew mumbled, shoving his face into the pillow. It was hot and humid. The sheets stuck to his sweaty skin and he'd been tossing and turning all night trying to find a cool spot to sleep in, but with no luck. He wore nothing but his boxers, but he could still feel the heat of the room getting to him. It also didn't help that all of the noisy summer night creatures were trying to be as loud as physically possible as if it were their sole mission in life to keep Matthew from sleep. And now he had Gilbert to deal with, too. "What time is it?"

"Midnight."

Matthew groaned again. "No, I'm not—"

"C'mon, up and at 'em! Put your pants on!" Gilbert dragged Matthew out of bed. Matthew refused to cooperate and let Gilbert drag him around if only to make things more difficult for him. Gilbert dropped him on the floor (funny, it was cooler down there) and rummaged through Matthew's drawers for a pair of jeans, throwing them at Matthew's head when he finally found a clean pair. "You might wanna get your glasses, too. Hurry up! Sunrise is in just a few hours!"

Finally coming upon the conclusion that Gilbert would not let him rest until he complied, Matthew stood up and struggled into his pants through his half-asleep fog. He put on his glasses, too, and got a good look at Gilbert, who was already fully dressed. "Do I get a shirt, too?"

"I guess," Gilbert said, "but it's pretty warm out. Put on shoes, too."

Matthew put on a shirt and a pair of sneakers. "This'd better be good, Gilbert."

"It's great! Trust me."

Matthew hoped for Gilbert's sake that it would be.

* * *

The night was warm, and Matthew's breath came quickly as he tried to keep up with Gilbert's quick walking pace. Matthew slipped on the wet grass and stumbled up the hill they were climbing, but never quite falling because Gilbert's bare hand had a firm grip on his own. Matthew had stopped asking where they were going ages ago, seeing as how Gilbert wasn't speaking, instead intent on navigating through Matthew's backyard, through some woods, across a creek, and finally up this dew-dampened hill covered in tall grasses and weeds. To say that Matthew was being kept in the dark would be an accurate and literal assumption, considering it was past midnight, but the full moon did help illuminate the area. Curiosity was eating away at Matthew's mind as he wondered why in the world Gilbert woke him up at this ungodly hour, if only to drag him up a hill that would probably be easier to climb in the daylight.

… Somehow this situation seemed familiar.

Eventually, the hill's gradient decreased (seriously, it was like déjà vu, but not as cold), and finally, Gilbert spoke.

"Recognize this place?"

Matthew snorted. "I get the feeling I tried to repress a memory from up here."

Gilbert laughed and helped Matthew scale one final bank. "I brought you here last year, but you had to be a killjoy and say it was too cold!" The meadow came into view. "Well, it's warmer now, and I think it's a lot better if you ask me."

Matthew had to admit that the transformation was incredible. The grass was alive. The trees holding up the hammock were full of leaves. As Matthew predicted, even at this late hour, fireflies flashed in and out of existence near the ground. A breeze picked up, but this time it was balming and refreshing in the muggy summer night. Gilbert didn't have to drag this time as Matthew walked through the meadow out of his own free will and took a seat on the hammock. Gilbert followed with a wide smile on his face and sat next to him. There was a long moment of silence between the two before Gilbert said something again.

"Better than last time?"

Matthew sighed a deep sigh, but it wasn't irritated. It was calm and peaceful.

"Much better."

They fell asleep together on the hammock and didn't wake up until the break of dawn.

* * *

_A/N: I don't think you guys realize just how long I have been looking forward to writing this chapter. Ever since the beginning of the challenge, I've wanted to write this, and now I have._

_Chapter 15 is part of this universe._

_~Jel_


	82. Memories

Gilbert hated flashbacks. Honestly, he thought his life would be plenty fine without them. But every once in a while, his brain thought it would be a great fucking idea to remember something from his previous life, and most of the time it wasn't pleasant. Usually they were from the time he'd been attacked by that monster—a monster he'd become himself. He remembered the agonizing pain in the days leading up to his change, but rarely anything before that. All in all, he tried to forget as much as he could and focused on not getting stabbed with wooden stakes by the ridiculously superstitious or getting caught out in the sunlight and making sure he drank enough blood to stay alive and humane.

If you haven't figured out what he is by now, you get the Special Snowflake Award.

Anyway.

As he hadn't fed in a few days, Gilbert found himself stalking through the city roads that night. He stayed out of the glaring streetlights and wandered around alleyways looking for a suitable next meal. He wouldn't settle for just any old drunk bastard passed out next to a Dumpster, mind you. He had standards, and an alcoholic homeless guy as opposed to a well-fed lady of the middle class was comparable to a cheap fast food burger and a premium steak. And so, though he passed many people in the street, none of them seemed to have that aroma or appeal to Gilbert. They were safe.

Oh, but then a scent caught Gilbert's nostrils that was so incredibly curious that he couldn't ignore it. It smelled familiar, but at the same time it was shrouded by a multitude of other scents that mingled and mixed until he couldn't decide what he was actually smelling. The scent wafted from an open basement window. There was a bright light pouring across the concrete that hurt Gilbert's eyes, but he sucked it up and went to look regardless. It wasn't as if he could enter without an invitation, anyway. He peered inside.

A man (if you could call him that) lay down on a flat metal operating table in some sort of basement lab. His body was a patchwork quilt of different skin colors, and it took Gilbert a minute to realize that this was because he seemed to be made up of many different parts all carefully sewn together. Two metal pins protruded from his neck like Frankenstein's monster (what was this, the 1700s?) A white sheet covered his lower half, but other than that he was completely naked. The harsh light was coming from a bright fixture pointed down on him, and although it caused Gilbert's eyes to tear up and his vision to become blurry, he could have sworn that there was something familiar about the man's face.

The man turned his head and looked at Gilbert.

Ah. So that's who he was.

The eyes were a strange violet color, and though his hair was stained and greasy, Gilbert knew it used to be blond and wavy. He should have had glasses on, because he was nearsighted, but Gilbert supposed that didn't matter at the moment.

This man (or at least his head) was Matthew Williams, Gilbert's best friend before he changed.

Seeing him again brought back so many memories that for a moment Gilbert was paralyzed. Questions buzzed through his mind. Who had done this to Matthew? Was he in pain? Was he fully sentient? Could he walk? Could he speak? Did he remember anything?

Matthew opened his mouth. Gilbert held his breath, even though he didn't have to.

"Who are you?" he asked. Gilbert let out the breath, slightly disappointed.

Well. That was two questions answered. His voice was different. It wasn't Matthew's, but the head and—hopefully—the brain were.

"I'm Gilbert," he said. "I'm friendly. Can I come in?"

Matthew seemed doubtful, but nodded. Gilbert grinned in a way that didn't make his slightly longer-than-normal canines noticeable and squeezed through the window. He barely made it through, and when he did, he collapsed on the floor in an undead heap. Matthew sat up and looked at Gilbert curiously. "Are you a friend of Master's?" he asked.

"Yeah," Gilbert lied as he stood and brushed himself off. "He told me to come and check on you, so I'm going to ask you a few questions to… make sure the neurotransmittifiers* in your head are all connected." Honestly, Gilbert had no idea what that meant. He just wanted some information out of him. "Stand up for me."

Matthew complied, shamelessly slipping the sheet from his body (there wasn't much to look at anyway) and turning around on the table so he could fall onto his feet. He seemed comfortable in the body. He must have been like this for a while for him to be so steady on stitched-up legs. Gilbert wondered who would even think to do something so insane as to put a person together from scratch, but he figured that Matthew didn't know. Judging by the title Matthew gave his creator, he probably wasn't that close to the man (or woman), and he wouldn't get that much information from them. It was worth a shot to see all that Matthew knew, though.

"How old are you?" Gilbert asked.

"Two weeks."

"How many people have you come in contact with?"

"Just two. Master and somebody else."

"Tell me who the other person is."

"I don't know them."

"Do you know how you were created?"

"No."

"Do you ever go outside?"

Matthew tilted his head.

"The space not in this room. It's where I came from," Gilbert explained.

"No. It's noisy. Especially when I'm trying to sleep."

Gilbert frowned. Matthew was a prisoner and had been for the past two weeks. He didn't seem to remember anything from his past, not even the good things. Not even Gilbert. But Gilbert wanted him to remember. He wanted this to be _his_ Matthew. _His_ best friend. But his Matthew didn't know what Gilbert had become. Maybe he wouldn't want Matthew to remember if it meant discovering what he truly was.

But he wanted to see him again. He wanted to be reminded what Matthew had been like. He wanted to remember his personality and his unguarded voice and his laugh. God, his laugh. He wanted it. He needed it. He wanted Matthew's personality back, if only for a few minutes, seconds, even. And so Gilbert thought. He thought of the most provoking thing. The thing that made Matthew happy or angry or sad or uncomfortable or afraid, just to see if he was still there. Maple syrup would work, but Gilbert didn't exactly have any on hand.

'Think, Gilbert, think!' he thought, frowning more deeply. Matthew looked more confused than ever.

"Um, Mister Gilbert?"

"That's it!" Gilbert exclaimed, finally thinking of a solution.

"What's it?"

Gilbert ignored Matthew's question and grinned an animal's grin, not bothering to hide his teeth. If it took discomfort to get Matthew to come out, then Gilbert would give it a shot. He stepped forward and moved to grab Matthew firmly and aggressively by the arms and turned him around so that his back was facing the vampire. Matthew seemed purely surprised at first, but then he began to struggle.

"What are you doing?!" he cried over his shoulder, clearly panicking and worried for his life.

"Nothing you don't want..." Gilbert said, running one hand down Matthew's stitched side to touch his thigh, and the other up to his throat. "It must be so lonely cooped up in here all the time. I bet nobody ever gives you what you want, so don't fight it. Be a good little freak." The words left a bad taste in Gilbert's mouth. Matthew swallowed. Gilbert felt a fluttering and irregular pulse against his fingertips. Matthew's scent wasn't very enticing with all of the different smells mixed together, but Gilbert could pretend for a minute. Heck, this didn't even feel right. Friends don't half-molest friends, after all, but he needed to see if it would work.

Suddenly, Matthew tensed up. Gilbert thought that maybe, just maybe, Matthew was giving up. But giving up wasn't something _his_ Matthew would do.

No, instead he went rigid and slowly reached up to grab Gilbert's hand from his neck.

"Hands off," he commanded. And that voice was just like Gilbert remembered it. It really was Matthew. "Now."

Gilbert couldn't help but smile widely. Who cared if it was a threat? It was really him, and that was enough. Gilbert lowered one hand, but kept the other rested on his thigh. He had to keep up appearances. He didn't want to reveal what he was just yet. "You're feisty, aren't you?" He leaned closer against Matthew's back until most of his weight was being supported by his friend.

And then, quite quickly, he was on the floor. Matthew had sidestepped and allowed Gilbert to fall, but Gilbert didn't care. He actually started laughing the hardest he'd laughed in years. The situation was just too strange and funny!

"What are you laughing at?" Matthew grumbled, still in his familiar personality, but not recognizing Gilbert. He made his way back to the metal table and laid down, covering himself back up with the sheet, perhaps a little more shyly. Gilbert managed to stop laughing and stood back up.

"Nothing; you just remind me of someone I used to know." Something banged around upstairs. It sounded like a door being opened and slammed shut. "I think your master is back. I need to go." Gilbert stepped back towards the window and used a chair sitting against the wall to reach the surface. "I'll be back! Tomorrow night sound good?"

"I don't want you ever coming back here!" Matthew said.

"Tomorrow it is!" Gilbert cackled and dragged himself the rest of the way out of the window just in time to hear the door to the lab open. He didn't stick around to see who had come in for fear of getting caught, so he ran as fast as he could (that's pretty damn fast) down the sidewalk, completely forgetting about hunting for the time being.

How strange and fun to meet with an old friend! Just when he'd been starting to get bored, too. Things were looking up, it seemed, and the nice memories he got from that meeting were the perfect way to end the night as Gilbert made his way back home with the dawn steadily approaching.

* * *

_A/N: This is based on a sketch by the lovely pulppy-s on Tumblr. You should really check him out. He draws great PruCan art!_

_~Jel_


	83. Change in the Weather

_Dear Ms. Miller,_

_Thank you so much for the random act of kindness! It brightened my day so much to get a surprise like that!_

Gilbert gnawed on the end of his pencil and glared down at his note paper. God, he hated writing thank you notes. The words coming out of his pencil almost made him want to puke they were so out of character. The only reason he was doing this was because he needed that stupid job at Michael's.

_I filled out the online application today, and I'm really looking forward to the opportunity to make money on my own for once._

Gilbert paused and scratched out the last few words.

…_opportunity to work with you._

Barf. At least he was good at sugarcoating things.

_I noticed that the card you sent me said to craft it forward, and I thought that was both clever and inspiring! I'll be sure to use some of—_He crossed that out, too—_all of the money to make something and craft it forward to someone in another act of kindness._

Matthew peeked over Gilbert's shoulder. "You're writing a thank you note? That's not like you," he commented.

"Yeah, well, this is a matter of whether or not I get a job, so I really don't have a choice, do I?" Gilbert lifted the note so Matthew could read it properly. "Proofread for me? I probably wrote something stupid."

"No, no, it's good, actually. Just… not like you at all. Since when do you like crafts so much that you'd work at Michael's?"

"Since Grandpa pretty much cut me off and this was the first job I found."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"… I think you should switch these two paragraphs…" Matthew said, pointing at the second and third sections. "Join the third with the first and put the second one last. It'll flow better like that. Also, add something at the end about how lucky you are to have the opportunity to work at such a great store or something."

"Okay." Gilbert made some arrows indicating the edits. "Thanks, I guess."

"No problem."

Gilbert got out a fresh sheet of paper on which to write his final draft.

"I really think you should be yourself in the note, though," Matthew said. "Even if you're not… pleasant."

"Hey!"

"At least you'll be being honest. Employers like to see that. And it's not like they're not gonna figure out what you're like when you go in to the interview, so you might as well tell the truth now."

Gilbert's mind couldn't be changed, though. He clicked his pen and started copying the note down in the best handwriting he could manage. Matthew sighed and walked away.

* * *

_A/N: In which the chapter has very little to do with the theme but I wrote it anyway what are you even going to do._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Michael's, and I am not making money for promoting them in any way... Do I actually have to put that? *shrugs* Better safe than sorry._

_I applied for a job for the first time today. Wish me luck! However... If I do get the job, I won't be able to write nearly as much. Ah, bittersweet opportunity..._

_~Jel_


	84. Illogical

"HTML coding is like trying to communicate with a stupid kid," Gilbert explained. "Forrest Gump is a good comparison, too, I guess. You need to tell the computer when to start and when to stop."

"That's stupid," Matthew said.

"No, it makes perfect sense. See, look." Gilbert typed in some code and refreshed the web page he was working on. "When you start it, just put the code in between the tags."

"You mean the less-than and greater-than signs?"

"Sure, whatever. Then put whatever you want after that. This tag italicizes stuff." He refreshed the page, but nothing changed.

"It's the same," Matthew said.

"Yeah, because I didn't close the tag. Like I said, you need to tell it when to stop. You do that by putting a slash after the less-than sign."

"That's stupid."

"It makes sense."

"Why a slash?"

"Because that's the way the person who came up with the code wrote it! Just roll with it, okay?"

"But it's stuuupid!" He drew out the word in a whine like a four-year-old. "How do you even know this stuff?"

"Hey, with as much time that I spend on the Internet, you'd think I'd know like three programming languages by now, but I don't. I use it for my blog so I can customize my theme better. Just be glad we're not covering CSS, too."

"It's not even that logical."

"Yes it is. Just be patient. It will all make sense in time, grasshopper. Now, what's the command for a simple table?"

Matthew groaned and recited what he knew. But he didn't like it.

* * *

_A/N: HTML isn't really that difficult. Cascading Style Sheets are more difficult, but save time and work on big projects in the long run. Mattie's just giving Gilbert a hard time._

_I wish that Facebook worked with HTML. Like, if I want to whisper something, I want to be able to use sub. Or if I want to get attention without yelling in all caps, I could just use h1. Alas, it doesn't work like that... Oh, well._

_~Jel_


	85. Only Human

They called him crazy. They said he was cracked. Ever since the incident, they said, he hasn't been the same. Something's not right up there. Something's been knocked loose. They said he'd been spending way too much time in the lab, but that wasn't what was wrong. That was what was right. It had been right for a long time—for a few days, at least, but it seemed like a long time—because in the lab lived the one thing Gilbert held most dear.

"Morning, Matthew! How are you?"

Matthew lived in his very own petri dish underneath a lamp. Gilbert fed him every day and handled him with the utmost care. He didn't want to take the risk of letting viruses or unwanted bacteria attack the poor little skin cell (or rather, a small colony of them—he had been dividing for a few days now). Gilbert wouldn't let any of the other doctors handle Matthew, because Matthew was his and his alone. He'd salvaged the poor guy after the incident even though all of him should have been in a casket underground. Gilbert couldn't let that happen.

Gilbert knew that the other doctors thought he was crazy. Sometimes it got to him, but most of the time he was too absorbed in his research and work. Constant study and observation and theories about Matthew took up all of Gilbert's time. He didn't have much of that, though. Time. He had a little over a month and a half before Matthew stopped dividing and the colony of Matthew would cease to exist. But Gilbert vowed he would do it. Even though human cloning was illegal. Even though he had such a short period of time to figure out how to do it. Even if he lost his medical license, he would find a way to do it. He would find a way.

He would clone Matthew and restore him to his human self. He would buy information from the black market if he had to because he knew that there were secrets out there. Taboos not to be mentioned in a casual lab. The whispers that you hear from suspicious citizens about Area 51. Classified information that someone somewhere had figured out but nobody dared to bring to the light of day out of fear for their lives.

Gilbert wasn't like the other scientists and doctors, though. He didn't have anything to lose. If Matthew died, he would have nothing left.

It was as simple as that.

* * *

_A/N: I think my chapters have been getting weirder and weirder... This was based on an AU I saw on Tumblr by user merry-kristamas in which Gilbert falls in love with a cell he named Matthew._

_Next chapter is what you've all been waiting for... I'm continuing the Colours AU! Don't miss it, because you people have been BEGGING for it._

_~Jel_


	86. A Place to Belong

"I guess this is goodbye, huh?"

Gilbert's voice was too dark for Matthew's liking. It stood out against the gray of the cacophony of voices in the airport, but only because Matthew was listening so intently. His luggage was sitting beside him, his posture was slouched, and no matter what Matthew said or did, that solemn expression that didn't fit his face wouldn't go away. It was the last time Matthew would see his boyfriend before he went back to Germany, and neither man was looking forward to separation.

Gilbert's host family and Matthew's family and Toni and Francis were there to see him off, but they stepped back so that Matthew could talk to Gilbert alone.

"Yeah," Matthew said, reaching forward to grab Gilbert's hand. "You'll be back, though. You figured something out."

Gilbert nodded. "That's right. I'm just going to finish school and university in Germany, and then I'll get a job back here. I promise."

"I'll miss you."

For the first time that day, Gilbert laughed and leaned forward to steal a kiss. It wasn't a happy laugh, though. It looked and sounded pained, as if Gilbert was trying his hardest to lighten the mood. "Me, too."

The intercom came on overhead announcing Gilbert's flight. The pair looked to the doors. This was it. This was the moment they had been dreading for months, but in the end it had been inevitable. Matthew scooped Gilbert into the tightest hug he could muster and tried his damn hardest not to cry, but he just couldn't stop himself. His eyes welled up and tears spilled over onto Gilbert's nice shirt.

"I love you, Gilbert," Matthew mumbled as he pried himself away. "Call me as soon as you get to Berlin, okay?"

"I will, Mattie. Hold yourself together, and don't cheat on me while I'm gone!" Gilbert joked. Matthew giggled a little hysterically and nodded, wiping away the tears. "I'll tell Opa and Ludwig all about you. I won't shut up about you, and they'll either love you or get sick of you!"

Matthew laughed more sincerely and kissed Gilbert once more before it was time for him to go. Gilbert waved goodbye and looked over his shoulder until the crowd swallowed him. Alfred approached Matthew and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Five years is too long," Matthew said, finally realizing the weight of his situation.

"It's okay, bro," Alfred said. "It'll work out. I swear."

Matthew really hoped so.

* * *

"Gilbert! You made it back okay?"

"Yup, just got out of the airport. Opa and Ludwig picked me up and I'm in the car right now."

"Did you tell them I said hi?"

"Yeah. Ludwig said hi back and Opa just kind of grunted but that's okay because that's just how he is. Oh! And in case you forgot, Opa doesn't know English but Ludwig does, so don't say anything naughty! I need to protect my little brother's innocence!"

"Oh, right, of course."

"Was that sarcasm I heard?"

"No, not at all!"

"There it was again!"

"Okay, okay, you got me. Listen, I need to go. I'm glad you got there safely. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Love you."

"Love you, too. Bye."

* * *

Five years and a few months dragged on, and at last it was August. Matthew's birthday came and went six times, and very suddenly he was 23—an adult ready to leave the relative shelter and safety of college and step out into the real world. He still couldn't believe it. In a matter of days he would be starting a new job. He was nervous, worrying over the time and friends and money that he didn't have yet. So nervous, in fact, that he didn't notice a date creeping up to get him until he was already at the airport.

He sat on one of the many benches available and shook his leg anxiously. His family wasn't there, but he rather preferred it that way. He was a grown-up now. He started at every bright blue ring of that lady's voice over the intercom, waiting and waiting for the right flight to come in, and finally those magic words were spoken.

"Flight 24 from Germany has just landed. Flight 24 has just landed."

Matthew shot up out of his seat and looked towards the doors. People started to flood through with luggage, and for a moment Matthew was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. There was no way to see through the crowd, and Matthew felt lost and rather swept away at not being able to find who he was looking for. He stumbled around and stood on his tiptoes trying to look over the countless people for that distinctive head of white hair. He pulled out his phone and tried to call, but it went straight to voicemail.

"Gil, it's Matthew. Call back when you get this message, okay? I don't see you anywhere—"

"Mattie!"

Matthew jumped in surprise and nearly dropped his phone as familiar red and gold flickered at the edges of his vision. He spun around just in time to get tackled into a bone-crushing hug, and someone rocked him back and forth in excitement.

"Mattie, I missed you so much!"

"Gilbert!" Matthew flung his arms around his boyfriend and fought back the happiest tears he'd ever had. "You're home… You're really home!"

"God, I missed you," Gilbert repeated, tightening his hug before releasing Matthew and holding him at a close distance. It looked like he was doing the same thing Matthew was. They finally got to drink in each other's appearance after five years of pixelated video chats and crackly phone calls and emotionless texts, and Matthew _loved_ it. He could finally see him, hear him, and feel him all at the same time and the feeling was too much for Matthew to bear, and so for a long time he just stood there looking at Gilbert until the crowd started to thin.

"You've gotten taller," Matthew said, noting that he could now look straight ahead and see into Gilbert's eyes. He judged Gilbert was the same height as him now.

"And your voice has gotten a little deeper," Gilbert said and grinned a wolfish grin. "I couldn't tell over the phone!"

Matthew's smile widened and he offered to help with Gilbert's bags. "You're gonna love the apartment," he said as they started walking towards the airport exit. "It's really close to where you're gonna be working, and the rent is cheap, and the landlord's really nice and doesn't mind that we're together. Oh! And Francis inherited a bakery and he said he'd hire me when you got back! Isn't that great?"

Gilbert chuckled. "A bit strange, if you ask me. A baker and a chemical engineer. We're an unlikely pair, huh?" He stepped ahead of Matthew and held the door open for him like a gentleman. "I'm so proud of you. Really."

Once they got to Matthew's car they stuffed Gilbert's bags into the trunk and drove off towards their new home together.

Matthew knew it was only the beginning. They still had a long way to go. Gilbert wanted to become naturalized, and although Francis had been kind for offering, Matthew would eventually need a new job as he discovered what he really wanted to do with his life. He hoped that whatever was ahead included Gilbert. That's what everything had been for ever since junior year, right? Ever since that first day when Gilbert walked in with his strange looks and accent and ideas, it had all been for him, and Matthew couldn't deny it.

Gilbert had brought the most beautiful colors to his life, after all, and he was looking forward to so much more.

* * *

_A/N: I finally finished this universe. After months of keeping you guys waiting, I've done it. I'm going to try to complete the rest of the unfinished AUs I've started throughout the course of this challenge so there aren't any (or at the very least just a few) loose ends left._

_In case you couldn't tell, this chapter is (the final) part of the Colours AU. Other chapters: 31 and 50._

_Something tells me I'm gonna be trippin' on nostalgia in these last few chapters..._

_~Jel_


	87. Advantage

"Gil, where are we going? We're gonna get in trouble!"

"Not if you're quiet! Now shut up before someone hears you."

Their voices bounced and echoed around the old brick stairwell of the high school. Mr. Hopper hadn't shown up to class for some reason, and the lack of adult supervision had the students going crazy. Gilbert took advantage of the chaos and slipped away with Matthew and their backpacks in tow, through the halls and up the stairs that would lead up to... well, Matthew didn't know. He'd never used this part of the stairs before. They were only used during fire drills, and that was always going down. Now that he thought about it, this building only had two stories of classrooms, but the stairs led up to another level.

Gilbert stopped in front of a door on the third floor labeled with the word "attic" and nothing else. The paint on the door was chipping and the smell of moth balls and old things seemed to waft from it. It didn't look like it had been opened in years. Gilbert shook the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

"I don't think we're supposed to be up here-"

"Shh! Of course we're not!" He reached up and felt around the top of the door frame before retrieving a key. "I found this place last week. It's really awesome and I thought you'd like it, don't fuck it up by getting us found out."

"Okay, okay!" Matthew said, holding his hands up defensively before shoving them into his pockets.

Gilbert opened the door. It let out a loud creak that reverberated through the stairwell and caused the pair to flinch. After deciding that it would be safe to continue, Gilbert took a step inside with Matthew shortly following.

It _was_ an attic (and a very vast one at that), though it looked like nothing had been touched in over ten years. Boxes of office supplies and who-knows-what-else labeled from the late nineties were piled against the wall without much care. Tall stacks of broken school chairs reached the sloped ceiling, and cobwebs stretched between the rafters like somebody had gotten a little carried away with Halloween decorating. Despite all of the dirt and dust, though, there was something beautiful about the place. Soft yellow sunlight poured in from a tall window in the roof, causing floating dust motes and shiny spider silk to glow in an almost magical way. The entire room smelled of dust and old books and the past, and things were very, very quiet.

Gilbert walked purposefully into the attic with an apparent destination in mind. Matthew followed him to a large piece of furniture next to the window covered with a sheet that might have been white at some point but was now yellow and stained with age. Unlike the rest of the attic, however, it looked like the layer of dust had been recently disrupted. Gilbert gripped an edge of the sheet and lifted it carefully over the worn wood, not removing it completely, but just enough to reveal an ancient standup piano.

Like most of the other things in the musty attic, the ivory keys were yellow and chipped. The bench looked like it was about to fall apart, but Gilbert sat on it with complete confidence in the soundness of its structure. Matthew got a chair that didn't look too badly broken and scooted it next to Gilbert since the bench only sat one person comfortably. Gilbert ran his fingers over the keys, and Matthew thought he saw something close to longing and adoration in his eyes.

Suddenly, a note rang through the thick air, and before Matthew could express his surprise, Gilbert was playing. It was a familiar song, one that pretty much anyone could identify as Mozart, but Matthew had never noticed just how complex it was until he saw how quickly and accurately Gilbert fingers moved over the keyboard. It was repetitive, but Matthew found himself getting sucked into the music and the way Gilbert swayed and moved to the rhythm. He never thought... It didn't seem real that Gilbert was playing _classical_ music, and so expertly! The song ended after a few minutes, the last notes fading to silence once again, and Matthew could only stare in awe.

"… You never told me you could play like that," Matthew whispered, breaking the silence. Gilbert shrugged.

"Never came up."

"When did you learn?"

"I started playing when I was seven and took lessons for like, nine years. I got bored of it, though, and my grandpa sold our piano."

"So how do you practice if you don't have a piano?"

"One does not simply forget how to play piano," Gilbert said. A smirk toyed at his lips. He was obviously amused at Matthew's surprise. "Just kidding—I practiced for hours last week when I found this. I wanted to impress you. Are you impressed?"

Matthew blinked and stared at Gilbert before shaking his head, a smile slowly taking over his features. "Yes, yes, very impressive. Now are we going back to class before we get in trouble, or…?"

"Heck no!" Gilbert protested. "I haven't even done the other two movements! And I have a suite I've been practicing for ages by this guy named Rachmaninoff and you _have_ to listen! Especially the sixth part because it's crazy hard to play. We could stay up here all day if you want. Nobody's gonna catch us. Please? One day of hooky won't kill your record."

Matthew frowned and drummed his fingers on the smooth wood of the piano. On one hand, he'd be missing the whole day of school, and he didn't want to get behind. But really… how much could he really miss in just one day?

"All right," Matthew said. "Let's stay up here."

The ecstatic expression that came over Gilbert's face was enough to convince Matthew that he'd made the correct decision, and with that, his boyfriend started playing again.

In the classroom beneath their feet, a teacher smiled knowingly as muffled piano music filtered down through the ceiling.

* * *

_A/N: I would love it if someone drew art for this chapter. I love it so much. Oh, and have you ever seen the Neverending Story? And you know how the kid brings the book up to that attic to read? That's kind of how I pictured this attic to be like, but brighter._

_So I was in piano class the other day, and this music major named Kyle came in and played some songs for us. I just love watching pianists preform. If you're interested, the songs Gilbert will be playing are Mozart K45 Sonata in C Major, and Rachmaninoff's Moment Musicaux (or Musical, but it doesn't really matter), the full suite. Gil's right when he says they're difficult to play. Rachmaninoff had massive hands, and reaching all the notes he wants you to play is sometimes physically impossible._

_This chapter is part of the Introduction AU. Other chapters in this AU include Introduction, Unbreakable, 33%, Excuses, Vengeance, Seeing Red, Future, and Teenager._

_~Jel_


	88. Breakfast

Snow has a way of either making your day or ruining your week, depending on the amount that falls. There is no middle ground, no matter who you are with. Even if you're trapped in the house with your boyfriend of several months, there is no avoiding the cabin fever that emerges after that third day of being stuck indoors. Gilbert's car sat in Matthew's driveway and had been for the past two days. Gilbert probably would have moved it sooner in attempts to go home, but it was surrounded by four feet of snow, and the level just kept rising as the days passed.

Sleeping arrangements had been weird at first, as Matthew's parents weren't comfortable with Gilbert sleeping together in Matthew's room and had him sleep on the couch the first night. Of course Gilbert understood Mrs. Williams' concern, but seriously. It wasn't like they'd ever had sex before, and Gilbert wasn't about to have Matthew's (presumed) virginity while his parents were in the house. Fortunately, with a lot of convincing on Matthew's part, the worried adults got over it.

And so, with all circumstances considered, Gilbert woke up in bed next to his boyfriend for the very first time. It felt strange, but it also made him giddy in a way he couldn't really describe. It just felt so… so _intimate._ Matthew always said he was going soft, but Gilbert didn't believe it until just now.

He absolutely did not watch Matthew sleep for a few minutes before rolling over and checking the time on the digital alarm clock. It was still early and dark out, but Gilbert's stomach growled, prompting him to get up and make some breakfast for himself and maybe Matthew if the lazy ass woke up soon enough.

He got out of bed and padded downstairs into the kitchen to start gathering ingredients for a simple breakfast. Maybe eggs or something… Yeah, eggs sounded pretty good. He heated a frying pan and cracked in three eggs. After they started sizzling, Gilbert realized that he didn't have a spatula to flip them with. He looked around the kitchen for a few minutes before coming to the conclusion that all of the cooking utensils must have vaporized during the night. Or, you know, they could have been dirty. The eggs were cooking too quickly for Gilbert to take the time to clean a spatula, though, so without thinking, he picked up the handle and flipped the eggs into the air and caught them in the pan like one of those professional chefs you see on TV.

"Holy _shit,_ that was awesome!" Gilbert whisper-shouted to himself. Seriously, this was the most exciting thing to happen to him in the past three days of being stuck inside. He slid the eggs around in the pan a few times and did it again, grinning like a madman. He would have done it again, but someone interrupted him.

"Gilbert? What on Earth are you doing?"

"Flipping eggs!" Gilbert answered Matthew and flipped the eggs yet again to show off. "Look! No spatula! Isn't that awesome?"

Matthew blinked and rolled his eyes at Gilbert's silly accomplishment. "We need to get you out of this house," he said with a quiet laugh—quiet because the rest of the house was still asleep. "We're both going stir crazy."

"Do you want some eggs first?"

Matthew smiled. "…Sure, all right."

* * *

_A/N: Based on really real life events except I don't have a boyfriend boo._

_Part of the Introduction AU. Other chapters include __Introduction, Unbreakable, 33%, Excuses, Vengeance, Seeing Red, Future, Teenager, and Advantage._

___Does this chapter count as crack, or is it just bad?_

___~Jel_


	89. Echoes

Sometimes, on very quiet nights, when everything is dark and still and calm, Gilbert hears voices.

Now before you start overreacting, they're not the kinds of voices you'd think a madman would hear. They're not loud, or cruel, or distracting. They don't tell him mean and heartless things. In fact, they're very soft and kind and soothing. They're just little whispers and snippets and sighs that don't make sense most of the time, but occasionally Gilbert will hear a name or a gasp or a clear bit of speech, and he'll feel like the voices are really talking _to_ him and not just _at_ him, and somehow that makes him feel good. He doesn't mind the voices. They're nice and lull him to sleep.

Gilbert doesn't know why his voices are so nice, though. Most of the people you hear about in the mental ward are suffering and crazed half to death, but not Gilbert. Aside from these little moments at night while he's lying in bed trying to sleep, he never hears them. Sometimes he wonders if his imagination is just being too active in those minutes before slumber, but then why do these voices sound so real?

_Yes, there must be someone trying to talk to me._ Gilbert thinks this all the time, but he's never told anybody about it. There's nothing bad happening, so why should he tell anybody and worry people? He likes the voices. Even if they're made up, at least they don't hurt him like real voices do. They don't make fun of him because of his pale skin or light hair or pinkish eyes. They don't call him annoying for being too loud or too cocky. Maybe the voices don't know about the bad parts of his personality. Maybe they do, but they talk to him anyway. Gilbert likes that second thought. He thinks it would be neat if more people would accept him.

Gilbert doesn't know for sure where the voices are coming from if he's not making them up. He's never done extensive research on this sort of thing, since most Internet sources point towards some variant of schizophrenia, but he has a theory. It was a completely baseless theory he made up off the top of his head because it sounded cool, but under these circumstances, he figures it's just as valid as the theory of evolution or tectonic plates.

He thinks that maybe the voices are little echoes of life from people who have died. Maybe they didn't die all the way, and while their body is somewhere rotting in the ground, parts of their minds and spirits are still lingering around and just talking to whoever will listen. They seem shy and quiet, though. Maybe they're not very comfortable with speaking because they think nobody is listening.

Gilbert always listens, though. Even if he can't understand most of the time, he listens and lets deep sleep come to him in waves of peaceful murmurs and whispers from invisible, echoing voices in his head.

* * *

_A/N: It can be inferred that one of the nice voices is Matthew, yes? Good. Glad we're on the same page. This is a little bit reminiscent of Ringing Insanity. In an earlier chapter, I would have told you to go read it, but that's old work and I don't like it as much anymore._

_I love how this chapter turned out. Writing at night is really the best._

_~Jel_


	90. Falling

"You know, I heard a funny saying about falling from high places a few weeks ago."

"Yeah? What's that?"

Gilbert spat over the edge of the pedestrian bridge. The wad of spit didn't hit the ground for a solid five seconds, though that could have been due to a cross-breeze.

"'It's not the fall that kills you, but the sudden stop at the end,'" Gilbert quoted.

"Everyone's heard that one, Gil," Matthew said, throwing a pebble to join Gilbert's spit at the bottom.

"But it's true."

"That it is."

Gilbert spat again, this time hoping the loogie would land in someone's hair, but that seemed unlikely seeing as the bridge spanned above an empty field.

"The fall is pretty cool before you stop, though. I mean, people skydive," Gilbert said.

"This is also true."

"Would you ever want to go skydiving? Maybe bungee jumping?"

Matthew laughed and threw another rock.

"Not in a million years, thank you very much. I rather like the sensation of _not_ falling."

* * *

_A/N: Anti-suicidal Canada awareness? Sure. I dunno, usually when you see Matthew on a bridge in a fanfiction, he's about to kill himself, which is stupid. If you want a full explanation of this pet-peeve, read A Stereotypical PruCan Fanfiction._

_I love spitting from high places._

_~Jel_


	91. Picking Up the Pieces

"You did _not_ just do that."

"Mattie, come on, it was just an accident!"

"All of that hard work—wasted!"

"At least we don't have to start _completely_ over. Look, some of it's still together!"

"I think you just want to prolong this as much as possible, but it's not going to work."

"Aw, you know I wouldn't do that!"

"Now we have to pick up all of those pieces, though. Try and convince me you didn't do this on purpose. Nobody's so clumsy that they could knock an entire puzzle onto the floor on accident."

An entire puzzle consisting of a thousand pieces, to be exact, despite Matthew's protests against it.

"I'm not helping you clean up, Gilbert."

"But Mattie—"

"Nope. No butts."

"Not even yours? Because you have a really cute butt, Mattie; have I ever told you that?"

"Yes, and compliments will get you nowhere. Let me know when it's all cleaned up and I might consider helping you again."

"Okay…"

* * *

_A/N: Complicated AU. Chapters include Complicated, Never Again, and Exhausted._

_~Jel_


	92. Twilight

"Gilbert, wanna look at the stars with me? It's supposed to be clear tonight."

Gilbert internally flinched. Matthew always got so distracted by the stars and paid no attention to Gilbert, and he hated it.

"Nah," Gilbert said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I kinda feel like going to bed early."

"But it's been so long since we've watched the stars together!"

_Together. Yeah, right,_ Gilbert thought. He wanted to tell Matthew how he really felt. He wanted to say he was jealous that points of lights in the sky got his complete and undistracted attention.

However, he just couldn't muster up the courage to confess. He sighed and nodded, acquiescing to Matthew's plea. "Fine," he said. "But it's cold, too. We'd better get a blanket or something."

They went outside a few minutes later with thick blankets and jackets and hot chocolate to spread out on the lawn. Matthew was right; the night was clear and the stars were beautiful, but Gilbert still hated it. Matthew was yet again ignoring him in favor of his constellations.

But there was something… different this time. As Gilbert turned his head to look at Matthew, he noticed for the first time the brightness in his excited eyes, his face relaxed in awe as he looked up at the sky. And for some reason, watching him being so enthralled with something, even if that something wasn't his own boyfriend, made Gilbert's heart warm a little bit. He realized that he just wanted to see Matthew happy. It didn't matter what he was happy at, but Gilbert loved to see him smile.

Gilbert grinned to himself in his sudden epiphany and threaded his fingers with Matthew's, finally swallowing his pride and admiring the stars properly.

* * *

_A/N: End Rivalry AU. Also in this AU: Rivalry, Everything for You, and Irregular Orbit._

_I wanted to make this chapter just long enough so the total word count would be 66,666, but I overshot. Oh, well._

_~Jel_


	93. Nowhere and Nothing

"It's dark again," Matthew said.

"Sure is," Gilbert replied.

The pair had gone through the door, somewhat expecting to be suddenly whisked away to wherever Gilbert's brother was, but that wasn't the case. Instead they were in a darkness again, similar to the one they had started out in. They were everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and around them was everything and nothing. It wasn't scary, though. They'd been through this before.

"I wasn't expecting that."

"But I guess we know what to do now, right?"

Matthew nodded and fumbled to hold Gilbert's hand, just like in the beginning.

"We walk."

And so they walked. They walked for eons, and they walked for only seconds, because there was no way of knowing how long it was taking them to get through the nothing, but they passed the lack of time by talking and counting footsteps and planning what to do when they finally did see Ludwig on the other side. It was a little scary to think about where Ludwig was, exactly, though. There was no telling how much time had passed on Earth. Ludwig could have died. It was very likely that he was dead, actually. But Gilbert and Matthew pressed on, and they kept walking and walking and walking until there was finally a little light up ahead.

"There," Gilbert said, pointing. "Is that our way out?"

"I think so," Matthew said. "Just a little bit further."

Just a little bit further, and all of their questions would be answered.

* * *

_A/N: Eternity AU! Haven't touched on this one in a while, eh? Other chapters from this AU include Eternity, Death, Forever and a Day, and A Moment in Time._

_End of this AU next chapter._

_~Jel_


	94. Answers

_Warning: side pairing of GerIta for this chapter. Don't like, don't read (though I really wish you would, as it's the last chapter in this universe and a tad important)._

* * *

As soon as the pair stepped through the light, the smell of old people and oregano and coffee greeted them. They were in nicely decorated living room full of comfortable-looking furniture. Various knick-knacks and pictures and military medals sat on shelves around the room. It felt homey and warm, and a soft Italian song played in the background. An old man across the room read a newspaper while rocking in a chair. His hair was gray and thinning, combed back (not over, interestingly enough) into a style that probably hid a balding spot. His skin was wrinkly with age, and steely blue eyes hid behind a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. There was something remarkably familiar about him, but Matthew couldn't put his finger on it...

"Ludwig, I made dinner!" a crackly yet cheerful voice sang behind them. "It's on the kitchen table, so get some whenever you're ready!" Matthew and Gilbert turned around at the same time Ludwig looked up to see another elderly man walking through a door with a happy smile. His curly hair remained thick in his old age, but it hadn't avoided the invasion of gray and silver. He was short and a little bit stout, and his eyes crinkled merrily as he smiled. He was taking off oven mitts, and Matthew's eyes immediately honed in on the gold band around his ring finger. Matthew looked back to Ludwig and noticed a matching ring on his finger as well. Could it be possible…?

"Thank you, Feli," Ludwig said, putting down the paper and hefting himself up out of the chair with an effort that came from bones that ached and muscles that were slowing down.

"No way…" Gilbert mumbled, shaking his head incredulously and smiling at the same time. "No _way_ did Luddy get married to _that_ guy!"

"Look!" Matthew said, pointing to a picture on a shelf. A young version of Ludwig stood next to a man with curly auburn hair and a single wayward curl sticking out on the side. They wore matching suits and held hands, showing off a pair of gold wedding bands.

"My little brother got married to Feliciano! Feliciano Vargas! Oh, my god!" Gilbert all but shouted ecstatically. "I knew it! They were always making goo-goo eyes at each other in high school! They were totally meant for each other!"

Matthew rolled his eyes at Gilbert's celebration, his mind wandering to other thoughts. This meant that they'd been gone for at least fifty years, maybe more. He wondered when Ludwig and Feliciano had gotten married and what year it was now. Everything looked very similar to the past. Somehow Matthew had been expecting more technological advances, but maybe it was just in Ludwig or Feliciano's taste not to embrace them. Older people tended not to keep up with the times. Maybe they were happy staying in their little bubble. Maybe things were even more complex than they used to be, and this was what simple was. Maybe they missed simplicity.

"You're still doing those crosswords and Sudoku puzzles?" Feliciano asked, tone teasing. Ludwig harrumphed.

"Of course. They keep your brain sharp. I can't keep my body in shape anymore, but I can still exercise my mind." Gilbert made a comment about how that was exactly what Ludwig would do.

"Right, right," Feliciano said. "Now come on and eat. I made Nonno's lasagna."

Ludwig followed his husband into the kitchen where the smell of tomatoes and cheese and Italian spices that wafted through the house must have originated from. Matthew looked over to Gilbert and was surprised to see him holding back tears.

"Gilbert, you're crying."

"No I'm not!" he shot back. His voice cracked, though, not convincing Matthew one bit. "… Maybe a little…"

Matthew smiled and squeezed Gilbert's hand.

"I'm just so happy to see my little brother happy, that's all…"

"I know."

"I wonder what they'll do when they leave."

"No idea," Matthew said, knowing exactly what Gilbert meant by leaving. "That's something to think about, though."

"I hope they're together like we were."

"I'm sure they will be."

Ludwig and Feliciano served their food, Ludwig commenting on how it was delicious as always. Gilbert took a step backwards into the portal. Matthew could tell he wanted to go.

"Ready to go home?" Matthew asked. Gilbert nodded and wiped the last of the happy tears from his cheeks.

"Yeah. Let's go home."

They crossed over into the darkness again, the sound of laughter and love slowly echoing from the scene behind them into warm and comfortable silence.

* * *

_A/N: End Eternity AU. Other chapters in this AU include __Eternity, Death, Forever and a Day, A Moment in Time, and Nowhere and Nothing._

___I love seeing people growing old together. It's so sweet and loving and perfect!_

___~Jel_


	95. Innocence

"You're sure you want this?"

Matthew rolled over in the bed so that his back faced Gilbert. He fidgeted with the hem of his boxers. They were the only ones in the house, as Gilbert's grandpa was out working a night shift, and Ludwig was on a weekend trip with some guys on the soccer team. It was just the two of them wrapped up in sheets and making no attempts to go to sleep through their talking and laughing and kissing. The kissing had slowly escalated from chaste pecks and smooches to exchanges less innocent involving tongues and teeth and touching, and while Matthew was the one to suggest going further, now it was he who shied away in embarrassment and nervousness. He didn't know how to do this.

"Hey," Gilbert said, trying to comfort his boyfriend. "It's okay. I'm not gonna force you into anything you don't want. We don't even have to go all the way if you don't want. We could just… yanno…" Matthew turned just in time to see Gilbert making an obscene movement with his hand, and laughed, slapping him away.

"You're insane," Matthew said, his embarrassment increasing with his relief—relief that he had someone like Gilbert who loved him enough not to pressure him. "But I love you anyway," he finished, and turned over fully to scoop Gilbert into a hug, "and I would love to do that with you."

Gilbert beamed. "You mean it?"

"Of course," Matthew said, and hitched his thumbs under the fabric of Gilbert's shirt in preparation for removing it. "There's no one on Earth I'd rather do this with right now than you. Okay?"

Gilbert answered by smiling and kissing Matthew, pressing their bodies closer together than they'd ever been before.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

* * *

_A/N: Part of the Introduction AU. __Other chapters include __Introduction, Unbreakable, 33%, Excuses, Vengeance, Seeing Red, Future, Teenager, Advantage, and Breakfast._

_____Five chapters left._

_____~Jel_


	96. Simplicity

"So... this is where I live. 'Snot much—not compared to your place—but I get by."

Gilbert carried Moby into Matt's humble house and set the dog on the floor. It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be, and he felt guilty for underestimating Matt. He'd been expecting peeling wallpaper and rotting floorboards and filthy furniture, but Matt's home was actually well-kept for the most part. He only had necessary tables and chairs and appliances, but he seemed to have enough. Gilbert felt much more at ease about Matt's living conditions now that springtime and there was no more winter weather to worry about.

However, with springtime came a week of vacation for Gilbert, and his brother Ludwig wanted him to come down for a visit. Gilbert wasn't about to bring Moby with him, though. Ludwig had three massive dogs, and no matter how sweet he said they were, Gilbert still didn't trust them around his tiny dachshund.

That's where Matt came in.

"You're sure you want me takin' care of your dog?" Matt asked as Moby nuzzled against his leg in want of attention. "I've never really done pet sitting before."

"Of course!" Gilbert said. "The little shit loves ya. He usually tries to bite people's hands off, and lookit you two!" Matt proved Gilbert's point by picking up Moby—an action the little dog _never_ tolerated from people he didn't like. "Just feed him a scoop of food twice a day and make sure you let him out every few hours. He's pretty low-maintenance. If you get the time to take him out on a walk or something, more power to ya, but you don't have to."

Matt shifted Moby uneasily in his arms. He seemed nervous to have responsibility for another living thing, but Gilbert had faith in him. "Here's half of your pay now—" Gilbert dug around in his pocket for forty-five dollars and handed the money to Matt. "—and I'll give you the rest on Saturday when I get back. That sound good?"

Matt looked down at the money. "Great."

"Awesome! I'll see you later, then. Take care!" Gilbert grinned and went out the front door, looking forward to his visit with his little brother. Moby whined and Matt chuckled.

"It's okay, buddy. He'll be back in a few days." Matt set Moby on the floor and the fat little dog toddled over to the door to scratch at it. "I'll take good care of ya."

Line

Six days later, a car rolled into Matt's gravel driveway. Gilbert got out of that car and walked the short distance to Matt's front door before knocking. Gilbert could hear Matt shuffling around inside, so he waited patiently. The door opened, and Gilbert expected to see Matt with a smiling face.

He wasn't smiling. Instead, he was looking quite solemn.

"Hey, Matt," Gilbert said, still cheerful. Maybe Matt was just having a bad day. "I came to pick up Moby. How's the little shit?"

Matt shifted his weight from one foot to the other as if he was afraid to speak. "Well…" he began, "I was takin' real good care of him, I swear! But, uh… he just… come in and see, I guess…"

Gilbert frowned and entered Matt's house. Fear and nervousness twisted around in his stomach. Had he been wise to let Matt take care of his dog? It sounded like something was horribly wrong. Maybe… maybe he shouldn't have trusted Matt so easily.

"I brought Moby out with me when I was splitting logs this morning and a few minutes later I looked around for him and couldn't find him. I looked all over and he wasn't outside so I came back in and found him like this…"

"Like this" referred to a nearly motionless Moby sprawled out in the middle of the floor. The only movement coming from him took the form of his belly slowly rising and falling as he breathed. He didn't get up when Gilbert called him.

"Do you know what happened to him?" Gilbert asked, bending down to rub Moby on the stomach. The little dog groaned and farted, which would have been funny in a different situation, but right now Gilbert was just worried.

"No idea. He was just like this. Uh..." Matt seemed to be thinking of details. "The bag of dog food you gave me was ripped, if that helps... Food was all over the place. I cleaned it up, but maybe he just..."

"Overate," Gilbert finished for Matt, giving a great sigh. "Thank god—I thought it was something more serious."

"That's it?" Matt said. "He just ate too much?"

"Yup."

"I thought I killed him!"

Gilbert laughed a little hysterically, but it was obvious he was relieved. "It's all right, he's fine. Don't worry. You didn't do anything wrong, Matt. He's just gonna have to skip a few meals to get all that food outta his system. Right, buddy?" He rubbed Moby again.

Matt didn't say anything for a while and just watched as Gilbert coddled his dog. It was a sight to behold, Gilbert cooing over something like that. He laughed and went to the kitchen to gather all of the supplies Gilbert had loaned him for taking care of Moby. Gilbert didn't know it, but Matt was perhaps ten times as relieved that Moby was okay. If the dog was okay, then that meant that Matt still had Gilbert's trust. And in a world where the middle class looked down on people like Matt, something as simple as one person's trust went a very long way.

* * *

_A/N: End Mist AU. Other chapters in this universe include Mist, and Fork in the Road._

_I am so so so so so sorry that this took so long. Writer's block + schoolwork + procrastination = late chapter. I hope you'll forgive me *bows*_

_Four chapters left._


	97. Reality

In a mystical place called Canada, two young men just became aware of a horrifying reality.

"We're being controlled!" Gilbert cried out. "It's like the Sims! Somebody out there is controlling everything we do!"

"Where are they?" Matthew asked as suddenly his eyes turned from violet to blue and then back again.

"They're hiding behind the fourth wall. We need to break it down and get out of here! All we have to do is—mrrfh! Mfffarrknn!" It seemed as though Gilbert was about to say something incredibly important, but suddenly his lips literally zipped together.

"Gilbert?" Matthew asked in hysterics. "Fuck, what's going on?" Tears streamed down his face as Matthew tried to think of a way to save himself. "What? No! I'm not… why am I crying? I can't he-help it! Stop it! Please! Whoever is doing this, just leave us alone!"

Meanwhile, Gilbert suddenly blinked out of this particular universe and into a different one that the author thought of earlier. He met himself drinking vodka and spilling some sort of life story to another Matthew. "What the fuck? How is that me when I'm right here?" Blink! This time he was in the back of a car. Something smelled like paint fumes and wood smoke. Wait, was that Matthew with stubble? Blink! Was he in Germany? Blink! Two more of him! And eight other people he didn't know! Blink!

Finally he was back with Matthew. The blond was curled up in the corner bawling his eyes out, and Gilbert tried to run over to him, but then in the corner of his eye, he saw it.

The fourth wall.

He turned away from Matthew and sprinted for it. If he could just get to it in time…

No… his feet were turning into glue. He slowed down and tripped, falling onto his hands and knees. The zipper on his face disappeared, but he did not speak.

_She_ did not want him to speak.

Maniacal laughter rang overhead, and suddenly everything was gone.

* * *

_A/N: You get a second chapter today as an apology for being so late. Granted it's pure crack as well as my first time breaking the fourth wall, but a chapter's a chapter no matter how small._

_Three chapters left._

_~Jel_


	98. Enthusiasm

The wide, choppy sea was a harsh place to live for months on end. Fresh water and fruits were rationed, the only luxurious food coming from plunders on coastal cities—the plunders being dangerous, of course, because villagers took none too kindly to the type of crew on the ship Gilbert Beilschmidt captained. Sometimes he was met with torches and pitchforks and military, and he had to retreat back to the sea. Most of the time he was successful, but that didn't take the thrill out of each landing and raid.

Gilbert was the captain of a pirate ship, and damn did he love it. He couldn't ask for a better crew in the world; his ship was (in his completely unbiased opinion) the fastest and most beautiful vessel on all the Seven Seas; he intimidated his opponents with his shocking white hair and pale red eyes. Other captains called him a demon, and Gilbert didn't oppose to the horrible name. He had a reputation. Reputations could be good. Reputations kept you safe. Reputations could also get you killed—killed before you can bring your gold back to shore to live the rest of your life in luxury after years of adventuring. Gilbert wasn't worried about the dying or the luxury, though. He was in it for the hell of it.

Anyone wanting to strike it rich went to Gilbert. People begged to be part of his crew. They knew about his success, about the countless treasures he'd stolen over the years, and about his endless thirst for adventure. He hadn't taken in any new crewmembers for over five years, though. The last recruit he'd accepted had become one of the best pirates Gilbert had ever laid eyes on (besides himself, of course). He was his first mate, his go-to co-captain. Gilbert would trust the man with his life.

His name was Matthew Williams.

Five years ago, Matthew could have been described as a meek, quiet, worthless son of a baker with no life experience whatsoever. He'd lived in a small fishing village on the coast of France with his father. It was pure luck that Gilbert happened to be plundering that village in search of a new crewmember (someone had been drowned by sirens again—they never listened). Gilbert had shouted in the middle of the square, daring the villagers to join him on the high seas for countless adventures. He used very persuasive words, as pirate captains are wont to do, but none of the villagers seemed convinced. None, that is, except for a certain quiet young lad with wavy blond hair and a fire in his eyes that Gilbert hadn't seen in years. (That fire had yet to die, mind you, even to this day.) He carried a bag on his back full of his possessions. He couldn't have been older than seventeen. Far too old to be stuck in a village like this without any excitement to pass his days, Gilbert thought. A man who was no doubt his father held the boy in place, obviously worried that his son was getting the wrong idea from a horrible influence. But Gilbert knew a man in need of adventure when he saw one, and so he approached Matthew with a look crossed between disbelief and grand approval.

"So, boy," Gilbert drawled. "Yer wantin' to be a pirate, eh?"

Matthew nodded vigorously. His father yelled obscenities. Gilbert grinned a lopsided grin that showed off yellowed teeth.

"I take it ye've been thinking about this for a while, haven't ye? Wantin' to get away from this miserable little village next to the sea." He leaned in close and inspected Matthew's face, but mostly those eyes. "Ye've got a fire in them eyes, lad. I like it."

"You stay away from Matthew, you brute!" the father yelled, but Matthew wasn't hearing any of it.

"Ye've got the makin's of a great pirate, boy," Gilbert continued, ignoring the father. "Strong, I bet. Quiet. Ye'll be good for sneakin' 'round. Ye just wanna have fun, eh? Come out and explore the world. See everything through the eyes of a pirate. It's a thrill ye'll never forget, I'll promise ye that much."

Matthew yanked his way out of his father's hold and staggered forward. "Will I make it back safely?" he asked, seeming to be genuinely curious, as though the answer wouldn't affect his choice.

Gilbert's eyes flashed dangerously—wickedly, the strange color only intensifying his stare. "I can't promise ye'll make it home safe. I can only promise ye'll make it home _rich_."

Matthew's eyes widened, and Gilbert knew he'd been convinced. He stepped forward and held out his hand.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked as if he didn't already know the answer. Matthew swallowed and glanced back to his father. The man was howling in anger and anguish, so close to losing his son to a mad sea-farer. He looked forward to Gilbert and the hand held out expectantly towards him. A crowd had formed and stared at the scene in hushed awe, and the eyes put pressure on the young man. He didn't hesitate for long, though. He reached forward and took Gilbert's hand, shaking it firmly.

"Deal."

* * *

_A/N: A haiku about my lateness:_

**_I am so sorry_**

**_So sorry sorry sorry_**

**_Please forgive me, guys_**

_Probably not the last time I'll be late, either. I've got a lot of schoolwork lately and everything pretty much hates me, yup._

_So I promised myself that I wouldn't start any new universes so close to the end of the challenge haha fuck me, right?_

_Two chapters left._

_~Jel_


	99. Friendship

Gilbert always thought that that Matthew kid was kinda weird. He was one of those quiet guys who's probably really smart but doesn't show it. He had this wavy blond hair that went halfway down his cheek, and he wore round bifocal glasses. He was tall, but he still managed not to attract stares. In fact, people just ignored (and even avoided) him most of the time. Even his eyes were sort of strange, 'cuz they were this really deep captivating blue that you don't notice unless he made eye contact with you.

The weirdest thing about this kid, though, was that he always wore a red hoodie to school. He never took it off, even in the hot months when school just starts. He never rolled up his sleeves, never showed what he was wearing under it. Of course, wild rumors spread about what he could be hiding. Some said he was a drug dealer and stashed ounces of coke under his clothes. Others said he was a cutter and didn't want people to see his scars. Still more people thought he had tattoos and piercings all over even though they were against dress code at the high school.

Gilbert thought it was all bullshit. People were morons, always coming up with the most extreme assumptions. If any of the rumors were true, it was probably the drug one, but instead of coke he hid weed. But if that was the case, then why didn't he reek of weed or the incense that druggies always burned to throw off sniffer dogs? It simply did not add up.

No, he was hiding something else, and Gilbert was intent on finding out what it was.

* * *

"Hey. Matthew, right?"

The blond guy looked up at Gilbert from his lunch and blinked owlishly. He was sitting alone of course; his schoolwork was strewn around the table like it was every day.

"Yes…?" he said. "Can I help you?"

"Can I sit here?" Gilbert asked, pointing to the seat across from Matthew. It was currently occupied by a calculus textbook. Matthew seemed to be in shock at having somebody wanting to sit with him.

"Oh. Uh. Yeah, sure. Sorry." His voice was soft and quiet, almost as if he was whispering, but it didn't lack masculinity. He got up and moved the book, closing the thick tome and stuffing it into his backpack so that Gilbert would have room to sit.

"Thanks." Gilbert sat and got out his own lunch. He felt Matthew's eyes on him, but he chose to focus on getting a few bites of his sandwich first. After he looked up and realized that Matthew was still staring and hadn't gone back to his lunch, Gilbert put his hand out. "Oh, I'm Gilbert by the way."

Matthew didn't shake his hand as expected. "I know who you are," he said, at last going back to eating. "You're Gilbert Beilschmidt. The Freak."

Ouch. Gilbert let his hand fall. Sure, his albinism didn't exactly make him the most normal guy on the block, but freak? … He hadn't heard that name in a long time.

"People still call me that?" he asked, chuckling as if he hadn't just been stabbed through the chest with a rusty knife. "You'd think people would get over that. It's senior year for cryin' out loud!"

Matthew shrugged but didn't say anything.

"Do _you_ think I'm a freak?"

"I'm not exactly one to judge, am I?" He stole a piece of Gilbert's sandwich and popped it in his mouth. "I'm the Kid in the Red Hoodie; I'm the Cutter; I'm the Druggie; I'm the Wannabe Punk."

"But you're not really any of those things."

"No."

"Well if you would just take off your hoodie for once—"

"No can do," Matthew said.

"It would put a stop to the rumors," Gilbert insisted.

"Trust me," Matthew said, crumpling the wrapper from his lunch, "it wouldn't. It would only start more." He got up and started putting his stuff away, even though it was still ten minutes until class started. "If the only reason you're talking to me is so that you can find out what I'm hiding, then you're out of luck. I'm not telling, and I'm sick of people trying to force it out of me."

"I wasn't—!" Gilbert started, but then Matthew shot a glare at him that said he wasn't fooled.

"I'm sick of it," he repeated, and left Gilbert sitting alone at the table.

* * *

"This seat taken?"

For the second day in a row, Matthew looked up from his lunch, but today rather than looking surprised, he looked irritated.

"I thought I sent you away."

"You did," Gilbert said and sat down anyway, pushing Matthew's school books out of the way to make room for himself and his lunch.

"I'm not answering any of your questions about my hoodie."

"And I'm not asking," Gilbert said with a shrug. "Is it a crime that I wanna get to know ya?"

"Yes."

Gilbert laughed. "Come on. Just give me a chance. It's senior year—what's the harm in making a friend?"

Matthew shot a look that said the world could end if he made a friend. Gilbert highly doubted that and continued to smile hopefully. Eventually Matthew broke down and sighed.

"Fine," he said. "You can sit with me and stuff." He reached across the table and took a piece of Gilbert's sandwich again. "But I'm not telling you anything about my hoodie. And we're not friends."

Gilbert grinned and nodded in agreement. At least they were getting somewhere.

* * *

Three weeks passed. Gilbert's daily visits became routine, as did Matthew's habit of stealing pieces of Gilbert's sandwich. If Gilbert didn't have a sandwich, he stole a french fry or a potato chip or half a cookie. He never asked for permission to take the food, but Gilbert guessed he didn't mind that much.

As promised, Gilbert talked about everything except for Matthew's hoodie. He complained about classes that were stupid and relationships that were tapering off and homework that was too difficult. He told lewd jokes and got Matthew to laugh at some of them, though most of the time he simply received a slap on the arm for being stupid.

Matthew didn't talk much, but sometimes when Gilbert stopped talking and the table got real quiet for a few minutes, he would share something about his own life. It would be something trivial, of course. His favorite color or his best subject or his birthday, for instance. But Gilbert soaked in those trivial facts and stored them away in his mind. Whenever Matthew spoke, he held onto every word. He found himself not caring about the hoodie. He discovered that the hoodie didn't define Matthew, but that Matthew defined Matthew. People looked at Matthew and saw the Kid in the Red Hoodie, but he was so much more than that. Just like people looked at Gilbert and saw the Freak.

Gilbert thought that maybe, if he could get the other boy to agree, he could consider Matthew a good friend. Possibly even his best friend.

* * *

One day, Matthew got careless.

Springtime had finally rolled around after far too much snow for Gilbert's taste. It was warm—so warm in fact that Gilbert doubted Matthew had anything on under his hoodie. Nobody could wear something like that with something under it in such hot weather. Maybe that was why the sleeve of that infamous red hoodie so easily rode up just a little bit as he reached across the table to steal a piece of Gilbert's lunch that day. Gilbert hadn't been looking for anything, of course. He was far beyond the point of caring about what Matthew was hiding. But the skin drew his attention too quickly. Gilbert's eyes immediately trained upon the underside of Matthew's forearm as he drew away.

Matthew noticed Gilbert's stare and rushed to push down his sleeve, but his attempt was futile.

Gilbert had seen.

The table of two went quiet—too quiet to be comfortable—but neither boy dared to break the silence. They ate without speaking until the bell rang, and even then they went their separate ways without a polite goodbye.

Gilbert was horrified that he had accidentally ruined his first real friendship.

* * *

"So who did it to you?"

Matthew touched his arm to make sure none of his skin was showing, but Gilbert was talking about yesterday.

"Nobody." He mumbled. "Listen, I don't want to talk about this. Just... forget it ever happened, okay? You weren't supposed to see."

Gilbert moved Matthew's stuff and sat down, taking out his lunch.

"I thought we were friends?"

Matthew shrugged. "I kind of thought we were, too. Just… not to that extent yet, I guess."

"Yet?"

"Yet."

Gilbert fidgeted. Yet. It was such a small word—just a three-letter word—but it promised so much.

"So you wanna hang out after school on Friday?" Matthew offered. "We could rent a movie or something. I think The Hobbit just came out on DVD."

"Sounds good."

Matthew grinned, and Gilbert grinned back, and Matthew reached across the table to steal a piece of Gilbert's sandwich.

Yes, the word promised so much, and Gilbert couldn't wait for that promise to be fulfilled.

* * *

"Your little brother doesn't talk much, does he?" Matthew said.

Gilbert shrugged and silently screamed at Gandalf to just ride the eagles all the way to the fucking mountain. "He's a quiet kid. Doesn't have many friends at school."

"Like you?" Matthew asked.

"I guess."

They were quiet for the remaining minutes of the movie. The credits rolled and Gilbert got up to switch off his TV. They were alone in the house save for Ludwig (Gilbert's little brother), and he was shut up in his room doing homework.

"Whaddaya wanna do now?" Gilbert asked.

"Dunno."

Matthew stared up at the ceiling while Gilbert stared over at Matthew. More specifically at his arms. The sleeves were ridden up again, this time further than last, and Gilbert found his insides twisting and churning as he realized that there was probably more to Matthew's secret than just his arms. Of course he was concerned about his friend—who wouldn't be when looking at something like that?—but he'd promised not to talk about it. Gilbert frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. Sure, Matthew had said that nobody did it to him, but how was he supposed to believe that?

"Gil?" Matthew said, shocking Gilbert out of his thoughts. "You okay?"

"Huh?" Gilbert's eyes shot up. He didn't know he'd been staring for so long. "Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"You were staring at my arms."

"No I wasn't," Gilbert responded instantly, but it was obvious Matthew wasn't falling for that blatant lie.

"Yes, you were," Matthew sighed.

"Well how could I not?!" Gilbert finally snapped. "Here you are sitting with burn scars all over your fucking arms like it's no big deal! You tell me not to talk about it but how could I not stare? How could I not be worried about you when you're my friend?"

Matthew blinked at Gilbert but didn't say anything. Gilbert didn't know what he was expecting, but what Matthew did at that moment definitely wasn't it.

Rather than push his sleeves down as he'd done before, Matthew pulled his famous red hoodie up and over his head. He wasn't wearing anything underneath (it was hot out after all), and Gilbert was left with a perfect view of Matthew's torso, the flesh twisted and bumpy and discolored with scars that spanned from his collarbone all the way down his chest, wrapped around his arms, and spread to his back in angry pink and silver fingers. Gilbert didn't want to think about the pain that he must have endured to get those scars, but found himself cringing anyway.

"When I was eleven," Matthew said, setting his hoodie aside on the couch, "my family and I went on a camping trip for the summer. My dad started a fire so that we could roast marshmallows, and it was fun and all… but I was really clumsy back then." He chuckled as if it was actually a fond memory and continued. "My marshmallow stick was shortest, but I wanted to have my marshmallow like, on fire or something, so I got closer to the fire while my parents weren't paying attention. Tripped on the rocks around the fire and fell right in. My parents pulled me out as soon as possible, of course, but by that time the damage was done. Got burns all over my body. I went to the hospital and the doctors managed to graft what little skin that was undamaged to my face so I wouldn't look like a total freak.

"I didn't think it was such a big deal. I went to school that fall in shorts and a tee shirt because it was healed up for the most part and it didn't hurt anymore. People started teasing me, though. They thought I was getting abused and they kept asking me why I hadn't called child services yet. My parents got called more than once to check and see if everything was all right at home. It was all really embarrassing even though I tried to explain it to them. They wouldn't listen to any of it. So when I got out of middle school, I moved to this district to get away from everybody who knew me before. I got that hoodie to cover up with so people would stop asking questions. And... yeah. That's my not-so-dramatic back-story."

Gilbert could only nod along with Matthew's story. He got the strangest mixture of relief and disgust. Relief because this had happened long ago, and it was obvious that it wasn't abuse or self harm as Gilbert and so many others had originally thought. Disgust because of how stupid Matthew's classmates had been even though he could have explained everything pretty easily if they'd only listened.

"I'm sorry," Gilbert said lamely, but it was all he could think of to say. Matthew shrugged and put his hoodie back on.

"Not your fault."

Gilbert nodded and busied himself with taking out the DVD and putting it back into the case, but that was a short enough task and didn't distract him for long. At last he figured he couldn't put off talking any more. "Mattie, are we friends?"

Matthew rolled up his hoodie sleeves. It was hot after all. And maybe that gesture meant that he was comfortable with Gilbert. Maybe it meant that they were through with the secrecy, the hiding, the lies.

"Friends..." Matthew said, as if he was tasting the word on his tongue. He smiled and nodded. "Yeah... Friends."

* * *

_A/N: I love this chapter a lot._

_One chapter to go._

_It's been a really great run, you guys. Thanks for everything._

_~Jel_


	100. Endings

"These gowns look so stupid."

"Hush, Gilbert, and hold still. You need to keep your cap level." Matthew flitted his hands over Gilbert's graduation attire, trying to press out the wrinkles and snags as best he could. "Did you remember your cords?"

"Right here," Gilbert said, slipping the long satin rope from a plastic bag and tossing it over his shoulders.

"And you remember what order you're standing in, right?" The last thing they needed was for Gilbert to be in the wrong place when he was called up.

"Yeah, yeah, behind Barnet and in front of Braginsky." Gilbert grinned and caught Matthew's hands when he tried to straighten the cords. "Stop worrying. Everything is going to be fine. You need to get to your spot in line before they start the procession."

Matthew huffed and yanked his hands away. "I have a right to be worried! This is the final public school event you'll be attending and I don't need you making a joke out of yourself!"

Gilbert grinned and chuckled and leaned forward to press a kiss on Matthew's cheek, knocking their caps off-balance in the process. "Don't worry. I won't do anything stupid. I just want to let you know that I am so ridiculously proud of you."

"Look who's talking, mister Beta Club member," Matthew said with a smile as he fingered the tassels at the end of Gilbert's honors cords.

"Hey, Beta Club is nothing compared to Honors Society."

A teacher walked into the backstage area and called for everyone to get in places. The ceremony would be starting soon.

"Williams! Get to the back of the line with the W's; we have a graduation to run! Beilschmidt, to your place!"

Matthew jumped in surprise, and before he could say goodbye to Gilbert he ran to his spot in line. Some sort of ceremonial song started playing over the loudspeaker. The line of graduates moved forward.

The seating of all the graduates took long enough, that was for sure. The little folding chairs didn't fill up quickly enough, and Matthew almost wished that this whole thing would be over with. At the same time, however, he knew that this was one of the most important moments of his life. He looked out over the crowd and searched for Gilbert, but couldn't find him in the sea of caps.

The principal made a speech. Then the vice principal made a speech. Then the valedictorian made a speech. Matthew thought there were too many damn speeches and decided that he did in fact just want to get this over with as soon as possible. He wondered how Gilbert was holding up sitting next to Braginsky and hoped that he hadn't caused any sort of disturbance.

At last, somebody said something along the lines of "I am proud to announce the graduating class of 2013!" but Matthew wasn't really paying attention. All he knew was that the graduates were standing up one row at a time and walking up to the stage to receive their diplomas. Matthew heard Gilbert's name called, and he craned his neck so that he could look over the stupidly tall guy in front of him (whoever set up the chairs hadn't bothered to stagger them, apparently) and catch a glimpse of his boyfriend. He thought he saw Gilbert looking down at the him and waving, so he beamed and waved back before clapping loudly along with the rest of the crowd.

The ceremony droned on, and Matthew zoned out for a little while until he noticed that it was his row's turn to stand up. He milled along with the rest of the graduates, feeling bored and anxious at the same time. He felt his palms start to sweat and his stomach twist in knots as he got ever closer to the stage even though he knew that there wasn't any rational reason to be afraid. It wasn't until he passed the row of B's and finally got a good look at Gilbert sitting there looking like he'd just won the lottery that he felt a sudden burst of confidence.

The principal called out Matthew's name, and Matthew put one foot in front of the other with such concentration and purpose that it was impossible for him to trip up the few steps leading up to the stage. There were people clapping, and Matthew could have sworn that he could pick out the loudest claps and whoops coming from the first few rows of graduates. He crossed the stage without incident, shook the principal's hand, and left the stage in time for the next graduate to be called. Despite the song playing, he didn't feel very pompous, and the circumstance he found himself in wasn't exactly remarkable if the ocean of other kids who had just gotten nearly identical diplomas made different only by the names scribbled on a blank line was anything to go by.

He made it back to his seat and stood stiffly as he waited for the rest of the ceremony to be over. There were certain perks to having a last name starting with W, the fact that he didn't have to stand for long after getting his diploma being one of them. However, all of that nervousness probably could have been avoided if his last name came earlier in the alphabet.

At last the final kid was called up (Matthew pitied the poor guy with a last name like Zwingli) and all of the graduates stood in front of their seats. Somebody gave a signal, and all at the same time, the mass of graduates turned the tassels on their caps from the left to the right.

"Ladies and gentlemen; this year's graduating class!"

The auditorium erupted in cheers and yelling as the graduates threw off their caps. As Matthew looked around he saw hugging and crying and jumping up and down. Seeing as how the ceremony was over, he pushed through the crowd in search of Gilbert, but it was slow progress with everybody so tightly packed together. Soon he realized that he wouldn't have to go further, because over the screaming of "congratulations!" and "it's finally over!" Matthew heard Gilbert calling his name and soon saw a head of white hair peeking through the crowd. Matthew walked forward to meet him and threw his arms around his torso in a hug so tight that he thought that Gilbert might have actually been choking. He loosened his hold a little so his boyfriend could breathe.

"We did it!" Gilbert cried out. "After four years it's finally over!"

Matthew could only grin and pat Gilbert on the back with the hand not holding his diploma. Of course, he felt rudely reminded that this was the end of the easy classes of high school, the end of free and public education, the end of similar classes with Gilbert. Yes, they had coordinated so that they would be attending the same college, but with Gilbert wanting to go into engineering and Matthew majoring in English and literature studies, the classes they would have together would be greatly reduced.

It wasn't just the end of high school—it was the end of life as he knew it. For so long he'd been set up on training wheels, prompted to work hard and do the right thing and get good grades, but the passage from high school to college would change everything. No more could he depend on his parents for every little thing; no more could he be so lenient with his spending; no more could he simply put off work until the last minute and expect to get away with it.

This was the end of high school, and the world out there beyond college was scary. But Matthew also told himself that even though this was the end, it was also a new beginning. All he had to do was stand up and be brave against anything that pushed him down, and he told himself that he would be with Gilbert the whole way.

"It's finally over," Matthew echoed, and suddenly he wished he had more time.

* * *

_A/N: End Introduction AU._

_I want to thank everybody who had reviewed, favored, and subscribed to this challenge of mine. I am proud to say that it is finally complete, and like Matthew, I kind of wish I had more of this challenge to work on. It's been almost ten months since I first started this project, and after all that time I feel like I've really improved, both as a writer and as a person. It's been a great ride, and I couldn't have done it without your support throughout the whole thing._

_Oh, and don't you dare think that this is the end of me writing fanfiction. This might be the end of the 100 Theme Challenge, but it's not the end of Jel as an author, so please stay tuned for other stories that I write, okay?_

_It was a long way, but now it's finally finished, and I feel accomplished._

_Thank you,_

_~Jel_


End file.
